#and catching the manic light in his eyes

[rainbowhao]

fratboy taehyun

fratboy taehyun who acts like your boyfriend but isn’t actually your boyfriend—just your high school friend who’s too dense to realize his feelings

fratboy taehyun who is never really surprised to find you walking around campus in his clothes

“oh. so it was you.” he gestures to the sweatshirt you wear

you laugh nervously. “how’d that get there? must of grabbed it by mistake.”

he just pulls the hood over your head before tugging you to your next class. “all the clothes you have and you still insist on wearing mine.” 

fratboy taehyun who is an all-rounder and insists on joining every extra curricular he can yet somehow always finds time for you

fratboy taehyun who acts all serious and tough but would do anything you ask him

“please never contact me again,” he says after showing up to your apartment just to catch the cockroach in your kitchen

fratboy taehyun who is a natural flirt but doesn’t realize the impact he has on you

fratboy taehyun who grabs your wrist when a car’s coming and lifts his shirt post-practice to wipe at the sweat on his forehead—who’s not shy even when he knows you’re in the stands watching

fratboy taehyun who avoids bringing you around his place whenever possible because of his nosy roommates

“i’m helping rearrange around some furniture,” he tells soobin one morning. 

this catches his friend’s attention. “you’re what now?” 

he calmly repeats what he said while slipping on his shoes.

hyuka watches the interaction, grinning manically. “you like them. soobin, he likes them.”

“yes. moving a desk translates to unrequited love.” taehyun rolls his eyes.

soobin hums. “unrequited, huh?”

fratboy taehyun who leaves you breathless even in jeans and a jersey—who meets you in a cropped shirt and backwards hat one warm afternoon and has everyone staring

fratboy taehyun who orders dessert to cool off and doesn’t think twice before wiping off the leftover ice cream by the corner of your lips

“you wonder why everyone thinks we’re dating.” you try to laugh off the situation 

fratboy taehyun whose eyes widen at your joke—who can’t help but think about what you said for the rest of the day and even turns to his upperclassman yeonjun for an outside option

fratboy taehyun who winds up outside your door after a long conversation, quietly knocking in case you’re already asleep (and secretly hoping you just won’t hear)

fratboy taehyun who forgets every word in the dictionary when he sees you’re wearing nothing but his t-shirt, features visibly tired beneath the street light

fratboy taehyun who can only think about how pretty you look—were you always this pretty—and can’t stop himself from commenting on your choice in sleepwear

“you look really cute in my clothes.”

fratboy taehyun who is secretly satisfied when you get all flustered

fratboy taehyun who stays over at your place—something he hasn’t done since high school—and somehow winds up next to you in your tiny bed

fratboy taehyun who doesn’t seem to mind when you creep closer to him in your sleep, eventually entangling your limbs with his

fratboy taehyun who takes off his shirt when it gets too hot

fratboy taehyun who forgets said action and wakes up startled to find his torso bare and your arm across his stomach 

“sorry…” he doesn’t know what else to say.

you’re frozen against his side. you can feel his muscles contract beneath your forearm. “it’s fine.” you gulp, gaze hesitantly trailing upward to meet his piercing eyes

“why are you looking at me like that?” taehyun mumbles.

you can’t look away. “like what?” 

fratboy taehyun who starts feeling things one shouldn't feel about their friend

fratboy taehyun whose breath hitches when he realizes how close you are—how easy it’d be to dip his head down and kiss you just like that

fratboy taehyun who’s convinced his dumb friends put these thoughts in his mind and would rather die than entertain the idea that they were right all along

fratboy taehyun who becomes even more protective over you 

fratboy taehyun who is bold enough to put his hand on your waist when you go to parties and doesn’t let you out of his sight when you wander off with an overly-friendly beomgyu

“you haven’t looked away from them once,” soobin comments smugly while sipping beer.

“really? didn’t notice,” he says absently.

his roommate chuckles. “you’re looking at gyu like you want to murder him.”

“sounds like a normal night to me.”

fratboy taehyun who’s forced into the closet with you after a stupid game of truth or dare

fratboy taehyun who keeps mumbling apologies everytime he touches you—who is starting to feel a little claustrophobic in this tiny dark space

“seems like they really want us to get together.” you break the silence.

“dumb, right?” taehyun chuckles.

“cause it’s me?” you sink back against the wall. “dating me is dumb?”

“that’s not what i meant.” the words are flying out of his mouth. 

fratboy taehyun who says fuck it—friends kiss, right?

“if it’ll get them off our backs.” he tries to play it off cooly.

fratboy taehyun who looses all control when he gets a taste of you, pulling you further against him until there’s no space between your bodies—who’s addicted to the feeling of your lips on his and quickly forgets about the game 

fratboy taehyun who never realized how needy he was for your touch until your hands are in his hair, on his sides, cupping his face—who never wants to let you go now that he has you like this

“think they’ve kissed yet?” beomgyu sighs, legs crossed and leaning against the couch

soobin smirks. “twenty bucks says they're having sex by the time we pull them out."

#taehyun #tomorrow x together #txt #kang taehyun #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt taehyun #taehyun smut #txt smut #txt scenarios #taehyun scenarios #taehyun x reader #txt fanfic #taehyun fluff #taehyun imagines #txt fics #taehyun fics #txt drabbles #taehyun drabbles

[princessbrunette]

you wasn’t sure what to expect from your toxic ex boyfriend rafe when you finally caved and let him fuck you again. you told yourself it was a selfish act, that he was only getting what he wanted because you let him — but after sex was when you were the most vulnerable.

he’d been alluding to it for weeks, practically stalking you wherever you went to just stare you down and shove away any guy that spoke to you. you’re talking parties, the country club, even making an appearance at the restaurant bar alone when you were out to dinner with your family. rafe cameron had eyes everywhere, and those eyes were all set on making it impossible for you to move on.

you’d given in when he’d cornered you at the country club when you were a glass of wine down, surely knowing it was the best time to convince you. wine made you horny, too easy, and whilst you could deny all you wanted — the thing you needed the most was for your psycho ex boyfriend to have you on your back, cumming around his cock.

so you’d let him drive you back to tannyhill, let him lean over at the red stop light to put his tongue in your mouth, ringed fingers cupping and fondling your soaked cunt beneath your sundress until the light went green and cars were honking. let him walk you to his front door with a hand on your ass and his mouth at your ear telling you that you knew where home was, and that you knew no one could make you moan as pretty as he could. you let him bounce you on his dick until you were overstimulated and crying, teardrops splashing on his tanned abdomen as he threatens to cum inside you and trap you with him forever. it’s only the after math you didn’t feel too in control anymore, curled on your side as you catch your breath in fetal position.

he hadn’t made a move to scoop you up and cuddle you. honestly, he didn’t know if that was allowed. instead, stupidly he wakes you out of your sleepy haze with his voice.

“alright, up. c’mon kid.” he shuffles, sitting up against the headboard and your heart sinks. you don’t dare question, or argue and humiliate yourself — simply forcing yourself to sit up, disorientated and reaching for your dress.

“‘kay. sorry.” you whisper, and you despise the way your voice cracks, tears fat in your eyes as you work your arms through your dress to pull it on over your body. you shouldn’t have come here, all that work to move on destroyed within the space of a few hours just for him to kick you out when he got what he wanted.

“wh— hey, ‘fuck are you talkin’ about huh?” he scooches towards you, grabbing your hands to stop your movements. you gaze at him in upset confusion and he realises his mistake and softens just a tad. “i mean get up and go pee… okay? always make you pee after i fuck you i — i don’t know why you’re…” he shakes his head, trailing off as he watches you melt in relief, still equally embarrassed. “look at me.” he commands quietly and solemnly and you do so, a shameful gaze through your lashes.

he sighs out his nose, shuffling to a better spot to be able to cup your cheek with that same boyish but charming roughness he so often carried. “i’m not going to just kick you out, okay — i… i am proactively trying to show you that i’m not the bad guy here. shit, if it was up to me i’d never let you leave this house but uh… know you’re gonna come to your senses soon enough.” there’s a tinge of sadness in his tone that makes your heart twitch with sympathy, your brows knitting harder as you stare up at him, waiting for him to continue. “but… for now… m’tryna look after you… right? so… so go pee and then you get your ass back in here. wanna hold you n’shit.”

he gives your ass a little pat as you stand, busying himself with finding a pair of sweatpants to pull on, glancing over at you as you hobble shyly to the bathroom like you’d never been to his place before. he hated to admit it, but he was just as emotional and sensitive as you were at times.

when you’re out the room, he sniffs— talking to himself manically in a self deprecating whisper. “god — i suck. man up. she’s yours, alright — just - just gotta remind her.” he tells himself quietly through grit teeth as he pulls the grey material up his legs.

rafe was going to make you his again, and this time he would go to any length to keep you.

#rafe cameron prompt #toxicex!rafe #exbf!rafe #tbh he’s not too toxic here

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Suspicious

G/N. So so stupid.

Your boyfriend is indulging in suspicious behaviour.

More and more, you catch him smiling sweetly at his phone, chuckling. At times you think you might have heard a squeal. He's always staring into it late at night, first thing in the morning, hiding his screen away from you.

Which usually would put you on edge if he was anyone else. Leave your imagination running wild, cause your insecurities to rise to the surface.

But you know Goo. He would have no problem kicking you out of his bed, his apartment, his life if he didn't want this anymore.

Except this isn't that. He's still as clingy as ever, still a mischievous menace. A brat, feral and needy, showing his own brand of affection and fondness.

You're almost certain that if you asked, he would shave his head for you. His precious blonde locks. That's how much he loves you.

However. The behaviour is peculiar, odd. You don't know what to think.

.

.

He's engrossed in his phone even more than usual this evening.

He didn't hear you come through the door, pad through the apartment, sneak up over his shoulder, almost breathing into his ear, eyes briefly scanning over his screen until-

"What's this?"

Goo yelps. Jerks away violently and with such force his glasses clatter onto the floor.

"Shit!" You hear him mutter under his breath as he tries to discreetly click his screen off and bend down for his glasses.

You're pretty certain you saw what you think you did.

…Really? Is this what he's been hiding from you?

Tentatively, because it's obvious this guy is touchy as hell about this, you ask, "Is that-"

"Nope!" He snaps, a very uncharacteristic blush blooming over his cheeks.

"Goo," You grin, eyes crinkling. "Are you embarrassed?"

He puts his glasses back on, adjusting them as he peers over haughtily at you, regaining some of his composure. "No cupcake, I don't get embarrassed."

You put your hand on your hips, raising an eyebrow. "Sure. That's why you've been sneaking around with your phone."

"I have not been sneaking."

"Sneaking."

"I-"

"Sneak. Ing." You emphasize each syllable, then ready your fingers at his forehead. "I may have thought you were up to no good." With that, you give Goo a light flick that he grossly overreacts to and screeches.

"So what?" he rubs his forehead with a pout, "I'm always up to no good."

That's true. You admit it with a sigh.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, clicks it back on sheepishly. "They just... They love each other."

"I know." You tread carefully, not sure which of his manic moods he's rapidly approaching.

"And they both die in the manga." You swear you see Goo's lip wobble, "I just want them to be happy."

Ok, that was definitely his voice cracking you heard there as he shows you his browser, tabs upon tabs of fanfiction open-

Really, goddamn. That is a lot of fanfiction. Although you understand the grip of a hyperfixation all too well.

Maybe you should have seen this coming. You know Goo loves his manga and anime, and you know he loves this particular one. You just didn't know how much. You didn’t realise he indulges in fandom activities.

But-

Did he not realise you loved it too? The amount of fanfiction you gorge on? That there was no need to hide this from you? You wouldn’t have ever made him feel ashamed of this.

"Hey,” You give him an encouraging smile and a nudge, “Did you read the college AU one? Where they're both-"

"PROFESSORS AND MARRIED!" Goo interjects, eyes widening in realisation. 

"Cupcake!" He purrs, any embarrassment or hesitation a thing of the past. The distant past. He throws his arm around you. Ecstatic at finding new common ground, starts to ramble and talk about his favourite fics, his least favourite. The tropes he loves, the tropes he hates. Mouth running a mile a minute.

When he finally pauses to take a breath, he smooches you on the cheek. Reading between the lines, as a way of apology for his suspicious behaviour.

And continues, until you interrupt him and tell him that your favourite ship is actually these other characters and-

"Ugh. Tasteless." Goo scoffs, removing his arm from you and stepping away as if your terrible taste will infect him.

#happy new year btw everyone!! thank you all for reading my bs. I really cant emphasise how much i appreciate it #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #goo kim #goo kim x reader #kim joongoo #kim joongoo x reader #wannaeatramyeon #....yes this is really OOC. i just wanted to write the scenario 😭

[marinawolf]

Always (supercorp)

Lena has nightmares every night and only Kara can keep them at bay.

or

Kara finds every excuse to spend the night in Lena's bed so that Lena can sleep.

a soft, fluffy and angsty supercorp fic.

Lena lay in bed, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, but her mind stubbornly refusing to give in to sleep. Night after night, the same haunting nightmares tormented her, a relentless loop of horror that had become all too familiar. It had been a month since that dreadful day when Lex had blown up a building and then turned his madness towards her.

The scar on her stomach throbbed, a constant physical reminder of that traumatic encounter. She traced her fingers over the faint line, a painful memory etched into her skin. Closing her eyes, she could vividly recall that nightmarish moment. The memory played out like a horrifying movie reel in her mind.

Lex, his face contorted with manic rage, covered in sweat and soot from the destruction he had wrought. His eyes glinted with a dangerous intensity as he approached her, a knife concealed up his sleeve.

"This is your last chance to join me, sister," his voice dripped with a chilling mix of desperation and malice.

Lena's response had been firm and resolute, her voice unwavering, "Never."

Lex lunged at her, the knife flashing in the dim light. The searing pain as the blade sliced through her flesh, the shock and disbelief that followed, and then a wave of darkness that enveloped her as her vision blurred and her body gave way.

Just as the darkness threatened to consume her completely, a distant voice penetrated the void. Kara's voice, a desperate scream that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness. But Lena was already slipping away, unable to fight against the pull of oblivion.

Back in the present, Lena's body finally succumbed to its overwhelming fatigue, her eyelids drooping as her thoughts continued to race. She fought against the encroaching sleep, desperately clinging to consciousness. But the battle was a losing one, and eventually, her mind gave in.

The nightmares returned with a vengeance, a macabre tapestry of fear and torment that painted her subconscious in vivid shades of terror. The sound of explosions echoed in her ears, and the memory of Lex's crazed expression haunted her once more. Lena thrashed in her sleep, trapped in a nightmarish cycle that seemed impossible to escape.

As the nightmares intensified, Lena's eyes snapped open, her body drenched in sweat, heart racing. She was back in her room, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the walls. Gasping for air, Lena realized that the room felt suffocating, the weight of her memories and fears pressing down on her. She sat up, her breathing ragged, and rubbed her temples as she tried to shake off the residual terror. She knew she couldn't go on like this, trapped in a cycle of sleepless nights and haunting dreams. But finding a way out seemed impossible, her trauma a prison from which there was no escape.

Exhausted and defeated, Lena lay back down, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She longed for respite, for a moment of peace, but she knew that the night was far from over, and the nightmares would likely return once more. With a heavy sigh, she braced herself for another sleepless night.

The following night, Lena slid into bed and found herself staring at the ceiling, her heart racing, her breath uneven. She couldn't bear the thought of closing her eyes, of succumbing once more to the terrors that awaited her in the realm of dreams.

With a sigh, she reached over to turn off her lamp, plunging her room into darkness. But just as she settled back against her pillows, a soft knock echoed through the room, startling her. Lena's heart skipped a beat, her body tensing as she cautiously got out of bed.

She padded across the room, her breath catching in her throat when she saw the familiar sight of Kara standing on the balcony, clad in her Supergirl suit. The moonlight illuminated her tousled, windswept blonde hair, and the suit accented her lean physique and the well-defined muscles beneath the suit. Her blue eyes shimmered in the night, and her lips curled into a beautiful smile that made Lena's heart race.

"Kara, hi. What are you doing here?" Lena managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kara's smile widened, her eyes glinting with a playful sparkle. "Hey, Lena. I was on patrol nearby and I'm absolutely exhausted. Do you mind if I crash here?"

Lena's mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but all she could muster was a simple, "No, not at all."

Lena let Kara into her penthouse. Kara often crashed at Lena's after game nights or movie nights but this felt different somehow.

Lena handed Kara a pair of her sweats and a t-shirt, their fingers briefly grazing against each other, sending a shiver of electricity through Lena's veins.

"Thanks, Lena," Kara said appreciatively before disappearing into the bathroom to change. Lena watched the closed door, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She took a seat on the edge of her bed, the anticipation building as she waited for Kara to emerge.

The moments ticked by, each second feeling like an eternity as Lena's heart raced. The quiet rustling of fabric signaled Kara's return, and Lena's breath caught as she looked up to see Kara stepping out of the bathroom, dressed in Lena's clothes. The clothes were slightly short on Kara, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of her toned abs. Lena's throat went dry, and she swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest, her fingers itching to trace the path of those well-defined muscles..

She had always known that her feelings for Kara ran deeper than the love one felt for a friend, a truth she had carefully kept hidden behind carefully constructed walls of friendship, but in moments like this, she struggled to keep her feelings at bay.

Normally, Kara would retire to one of the guest rooms, and Lena had assumed tonight would be no different. But to Lena's surprise, Kara moved with graceful purpose, sliding into Lena's bed as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Despite the many nights they had spent under the same roof, Kara had never slept in Lena's bed. This was something Lena had never even dared to imagine, even in her wildest dreams.

With cautious steps, Lena slipped under the covers, settling beside Kara. The bed seemed impossibly small, the space between them charged with an electric tension. Kara turned onto her side, facing Lena, and Lena mirrored her position, their gazes locked.

"Goodnight, Lena," Kara whispered, her breath ghosting over Lena's lips before she closed her eyes.

"Goodnight, Kara."

Lena found herself acutely aware of Kara's presence beside her. With her eyes closed, she tried to find a sense of calm, allowing the rhythm of Kara's breath to guide her.

As time passed, Lena felt herself gradually relaxing, the softness of the moment easing the usual restlessness that plagued her nights. The fear of nightmares still lingered, but it felt distant.

She felt herself surrendering to sleep. The sound of Kara's steady breathing became comforting.

In the quiet darkness of the room, Lena's consciousness slipped away, her mind finally finding a respite from the torment of her past. As sleep claimed her, the usual nightmares were conspicuously absent.

--

The soft, warm rays of morning light gently filtered through the curtains, casting a serene glow over the room. Lena stirred, gradually awakening from the depths of slumber, her senses slowly coming to life. The sensation that enveloped her was one of warmth and security, a comfort she hadn't experienced in a long time.

She realised that Kara's arms were tightly wrapped around her and her body was pressed against Lena's back, their forms fitting together as if they were two pieces of a puzzle perfectly aligned.

Lena's heart danced within her chest as she felt Kara's breath ghosting against the back of her neck, a sensation that sent shivers of delight down her spine. The intimacy of the moment was intoxicating and left her heart racing dangerously.

Kara stirred beside her, her movements slow and gentle. Lena could hear a soft, almost inaudible mumble from Kara, the sound of her voice tugging at Lena's heartstrings. "Oh, sorry," Kara's voice was a gentle whisper.

Lena felt a twinge of disappointment as Kara began to extricate herself from their embrace.

As Lena turned to look at Kara, her eyes were met with a sleepy smile that seemed to illuminate the entire room. Lena's heart skipped a beat as she took in the sight of Kara's tousled hair and the soft lines of her face.

"Morning," Kara's voice was soft and sleepy.

Lena's fingers itched to reach out, to brush away the hair that had fallen across Kara's forehead, to trace the delicate curve of her cheek. But a sense of shyness held her back, a lingering hesitation that reminded her of the boundaries Lena had always maintained.

--

Over the course of the next two weeks, Lena's life took an unexpected turn. To her immense surprise and relief, Kara seemed to find a reason, however small, to spend every single night in Lena's bed. It was a pattern that quickly became a comforting routine. Each evening, as the world outside dipped into the embrace of night, Kara would slip into Lena's bed, a shield against the haunting nightmares that had held Lena captive for far too long.

Lena's waking moments became increasingly filled with the sense of Kara's proximity. She would wake up each morning wrapped in Kara's strong arms, the gentle rise and fall of her chest against Lena's back serving as a soothing reassurance. The nightmares, which had once been an unrelenting torment, remained at bay, their usual grip loosening with every passing night.

Lena reveled in the comfort of Kara's embrace and her eyes often lingered on Kara's serene features as they lay tangled together under the covers. Yet, amidst the warmth of Kara's presence, Lena was fighting her feelings.

Lena's feelings for Kara deepened with every night they spent together, the lines between friendship and something more becoming more blurred each night. She found herself captivated by Kara's laughter, drawn to the way her eyes sparkled when she shared stories of her day, enchanted by her bashful grace.

But Lena couldn't ignore the growing questions that tugged at her thoughts. Why was Kara staying over so often? The skepticism that had once colored her perception of others now cast a shadow over her moments of happiness. Lena's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of uncertainty as she tried to make sense of the situation.

One evening, as they sat together on Lena's couch, wrapped in a blanket and sipping tea, Lena's resolve solidified. The time had come to breach the subject that had been gnawing at her. She looked at Kara, her gaze a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Kara, is everything okay?"

Kara turned her head to meet Lena's eyes, her expression serene yet guarded. "Mm, yes, why?"

Lena's lips twitched into a half-smile, the tension in the room palpable. "You've spent the last fourteen nights here. Is there something going on? Not that I don't love having you stay over—I really do. But if you're having problems with your apartment or something, I can help."

Kara's blue eyes flickered, her gaze momentarily shifting before she leaned in closer to Lena. Her fingers, warm and tender, slipped beneath Lena's shirt, tracing a path over the jagged scar on Lena's abdomen. Lena's breath hitched as Kara's touch sent shivers of sensation through her.

"You know every night on patrol, I fly past your penthouse to check on you? Just to listen to your heartbeat and make sure you're okay." Kara's voice held a mix of vulnerability and sincerity, her fingertips mapping the contours of Lena's scar as if tracing a roadmap of the past. "Especially since everything with Lex, since he hurt you. I heard your nightmares every night, Lena, and it pained me to see you so broken. And when I stayed over that first night, I noticed that the nightmares didn't come. So I thought maybe if I stayed over, you could sleep better."

Lena's eyes glistened with unshed tears as Kara's words sank in, the depth of Kara's care astounding to her. She felt a lump forming in her throat.

"Sorry," Kara continued, "I know I should have told you, but I know you would think that I was inconveniencing myself or something. But I'm not. I want you to be okay, Lena, and I'll do anything for you. If I could undo what happened, I would. But I can't, so this is something I can do for you."

Lena was speechless. Tears pricked at the corners of Lena's eyes as Kara's words washed over her, a wave of emotions crashing against the walls she had carefully constructed around her heart. Kara's selflessness had left her utterly stunned, and Lena realized that no one had ever cared for her so deeply, so unconditionally before. She couldn't hold back the tears that spilled from her eyes, the floodgates of her emotions breaking open.

Kara. Sweet Kara. Always there for Lena, always looking out for her. Lena had never felt such profound love before.

Moved beyond words, Lena leaned forward, her heart pounding against her chest. Her hand found Kara's, their fingers intertwining. Kara's gaze on her held her captive.

The floodgates of vulnerability opened, and before she could think, before she could second-guess herself, she acted on the feelings she had been hiding for so long.

Lena leaned forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she pressed her lips against Kara's. The kiss was a confession, an unspoken declaration of every feeling she had hidden behind those walls for so long.

Kara froze for a second and Lena's heart stopped, but just as quickly, her lips began moving against Lena's- a soft, desperate kiss. There was a vulnerability in the way Kara kissed her back, a raw honesty that stripped away any doubts Lena may have had. Her heart felt like it was going to explode. Kara was kissing her back and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Time seemed to stand still as their lips moved against each other. Lena's fingers trembled as they found their way to Kara's cheek, her touch gentle and filled with wonder. The taste of Kara's lips was a revelation.

As the kiss finally drew to a close, Lena pulled back slightly, her eyes fluttering open to meet Kara's gaze.

"Thank you," she whispered, “for being here.”

And Kara smiled that blindingly beautiful smile, and whispered, "Always" before crashing her lips against Lena's once more.

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #kara x lena #supercorp fanfic #kara zor el #fanfic #kara danvers x lena luthor #lena luthor x kara danvers #lena and kara #protective kara danvers #supergirl imagine #cw supergirl #supergirl crack #supergirl tv #supercorp fluff #kara zor el x lena luthor #supercorp first kiss

[iovnyu]

ೃ getting woken up by enhypen

genre: fluff

pairing: enhypen x gn! readers (correct me if i’m wrong)

a/n: hello! i have not wrote in a while but here is a headcanon! in the months i have been gone i have met enha irl at kcon and also saw them in concert two times!! requests are open! please look at the guidelines before submitting!

「 heeseung 」  

he would probably hum a tune, using his lovely raspy voice in the morning. he knows you love when he talks to you the first thing in the morning because of the rasp in his voice. you will try to pretend to still be asleep just to hear his voice for a little bit longer but he will catch on pretty quickly. as you lay on his chest, you can feel the vibrations of his laugh. peeking through one eye, you are met with heeseung side eyeing you. “you know you can just ask me to sing to you whenever you want, you know i’ll always do it.”

「 jay 」  

he is the type to rub your back (assuming that your back is facing him or is facing up). if you were to be laying on his chest, he would trace random shapes onto your back, wondering how long it will be until you would be awake. he already finds himself excited to cook breakfast for the both of you and see the lovely smile that adorns your face when there is your favorite food in front of you. after getting bored of tracing shapes, he will begin to write your name and his on your back (maybe even add a heart in the middle of it: y/n <3 jay). he wishes to have many more mornings like this.  

「 jake 」  

jake would probably just stare at you in awe while you sleep facing him. he is literally stunned. he isn’t the type to laugh at how you are positioned, he would just look at you and immediately think you are the cutest thing ever. if any of the members walk in to jake just staring at you, they would think it’s creepy at how he is facing you. it would look as if a child saw santa in real life right in front of them. he could care less though, but either way, he would never be the one to ruin your sleep. either you’re waking up yourself or some loud noise will, never him.

「 sunghoon 」  

sunghoon would tap your cheek lightly or tap any skin that is exposed (out of the blanket that was covering you). if your feet was dangling outside of your blanket, he would go over and tap your feet a couple of times to wake you up. if tapping you doesn’t work, he would definitely jump on your bed next to you because of how impatient he is. sunghoon would bug the living shit out of you if you didn’t wake up to his first attempts.

「 sunoo 」  

sunoo would definitely wake you up with a happy smile, telling you what the plans are for the day knowing damn well you can’t understand what he is saying. he would open the curtains to let the sunlight in, and if you don’t have any he would turn on your lights. he comes in singing a little tune, not like heeseung though. he would sing it obnoxiously but in a funny way to ensure he is the first thing you hear when you start your day.

「 jungwon 」  

jungwon would wake you up by slowly pulling the blankets off your body. like how he woke up jay in that one en o’clock episode. he would grab your hands and pull you up with all his might. you would try to lie back down but he is quick to grab your arms and pull you up again. he would sit right in front of you and brush back your hair from your face in hopes of waking you up. (fun fact, this actually makes you sleepy even more).

「 niki 」  

niki would be a menace waking you up. he would make sure that your sleep would be interrupted no matter what. you guys have a joking and playful relationship and this includes when your sleeping or when he is sleeping. he would definitely pull the blankets off you in an aggressive way, especially when the temperature is in the negatives in your room. you would groan trying to find the blankets only to find him running away with it while laughing manically.

#enhypen #enhypen headcanon #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen bighit #lee heeseung #jay park #jake shim #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #nishimura niki #bighit #enhypen oneshot #enhypen icons #enhypen layout #enhypen fluff #enhypen timestamps #headcanons #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #niki x reader #iovnyuwritings #headcanons:enhypen

[candywife333]

My Little Saesang (Part 2)

chubby reader x idol jungkook

Summary: Y/N had been a super fan for a while. Some would say bordering on saesang or creep level. She didn't think she was one, till she experienced an incident that made her stop being a fan. She had never thought that Jungkook or any of BTS ever noticed her, as she was part of the masses of obsessive fans. But they had. Especially, one doe eyed idol in particular. He never thought he would miss his fan, or shall we say saesang. Yet, he couldn't help but notice her absence. He took her comforting presence, her kind eyes, hair disheveled in excitement, and wide smile for granted. And he didn't know when her presence started to matter to him so much. When exactly did she become such a constant in his life?

Disclaimer: The Jungkook represented in this fic does not reflect the true actions or thoughts of the real life Jungkook. Please treat this fic as exactly what it is, fiction

Triggers: Critique of fandom culture and kpop as a whole, identity crisis, eventual smut

Note: Not proofread. Slated to be approximately 4 parts or less.

Jungkook POV

It took me about two weeks, but I did start to notice her absence. I never got her real name. But I and all the other members christened her with the moniker of strawberry shortcake, for how tiny and chubby she was, and also how flushed her entire face and neck become as she jumped up and down to our songs. We called her berry or SS for short. The few fans we had from the beginning, we either knew their actual names or had little nicknames to commemorate them.

She was a fan of the entire group, but I knew I was her bias, and so did the other members. It was obvious, the way she left tiny gifts wrapped in gold and red ( as though it were perpetually christmas year round for her) addressed towards me. She even took fancams of me, her eyes furtively moving along my body , gasping when she caught sight of my abs over the years. I wouldn't deny that sometimes I played up my antics for the camera just so I could catch her mouth wide open in an "O" petrified in shock as she bopped her head up and down manically.

Berry was not there. And it was starting to really bother me. It shouldn't in fact. She shouldn't matter that much to me. Yet, I always had her in my corner since debut. I always had her eyes on me, watching over me. It felt comforting even though she had gotten a little too close for comfort twice or thrice by accosting me with gifts on sets of music video shoots or backstage. Her specialty was with desserts. She would always leave me coffee infused brownies and tres leche cake towards the end of the year right in front of the HYBE building, addressed to me specifically with a cheery little note wishing me for christmas and new years.

And now I was staring at the entire crowd at MusicBank, surveying the area to see her familiar face. She was usually in the first row, bopping her light stick in an erratic manner, mouthing the lyrics to the song, staring at me with excited eyes that lit up with glee. The girl really didn't seem to love material things, because she would always wear the same red beanie and pearl earrings I had been seeing for the past 5 years. Her clothes were always a nondescript black or brown shade, pants and a sweater. She never really donned feminine clothes in all the years I had noticed her.

As I looked for her, I could only find her associate, the ARMY who always stuck by her, who we had named Specs. The tall, lithe limbed girl glared at me. It felt like she was piercing daggers through my skull as she squinted though her black thick framed glasses. She had always had a smile on her face, and now she looked so angry. Yoongi always had a tiny crush on her. She had supported him for ages, even paying for his meals many times when he was still a trainee. Why was she so indignant?

Before I could start questioning all of this even further, Yoongi came up to me with a hand on my shoulder, noticing Specs, "How is my baby doing? And why the hell is she glaring at you like you murdered her first born child? Did you do anything to her?", he questioned in a worried tone of voice. I answered back, "Of course not. I don't really interact with fans that personally. You know that hyung".

He continued quizzically, raising one eye brow up, "Where is berry? My baby Specs is alone today? You really must've done something to fuck things up. She isn't even looking at me. Totally ignoring me. The hell, she usually smiles softly at me and today she looks like somebody pissed on her breakfast. What gives"?

I had no idea what was going on. Our loyal fans for years, people who we didn't necessarily consider saesangs, but just sort of obsessive in their devotion, were either not present or ignoring us. What the hell was becoming of this fandom?!!!!

That's when I saw Berry push through the crowd. And I was so shook, that an earthquake could've come through and swallowed me up and I wouldn't have cared. Berry was dressed in a peach colored floral fit and flare dress with her customary pearls in her ears and what looked like heels on. The only way I knew was that she looked taller than usual. She had a floral ribbon in her hair, lip gloss on, eye make up on point. What the hell was she up to all of a sudden?

Her hair was streaming down her back in waves, loosened from the customary ponytail I saw all the time. She hugged Specs and a few other armies who I noticed she always had around with her. She kissed another army in a wheelchair on the cheek, plopping a pastry box in her hands and wrapping her neck with a scarf. With the deadest look in her eyes, lifeless and devoid of the usual pretty sparkle, she stared at me, as though it were some sort of messed up farewell. WTF??!!! Why did this feel like a good bye? She just looked so done.

She didn't smile at me or any of the members. She gave her light stick to another baby Army in 3rd row, she looked back once wistfully, and left the place through the door.

Where the fuck was she going?!!!?!

After the performance, dreading the fact that Berry left right in the beginning (something she had never done even once in the past years) , I walked up to Specs in the front row. The gangly girl looked super shocked to see me right up in front of her. I squeaked out in mild panic, "Where is your friend? She looked all dressed up and cute today. Does she have plans or something?"

The initial shock wore off on Specs face as something akin to irritation filtered through, "She has a date today , with a coworker I believe. That's why she is dressed up. But you don't need to know that. Today was her official last day as active super fan. She is still a fan, but she's decided to convert from offline to online fan. That's it". Specs said all this with a finality that started freaking me out. I stuttered, "SS-S-S-S-he became an online fan. Meaning, she won't show up in person to our events anymore"?

Specs muttered derisively, "Do you not understand anything I just said. Korean is your first language right? I just told you she is done being such an avid fan". She snorted, looking tired with a distant glaze in her eyes , "Maybe even I should stop. I am getting too old for this shit. My mom keeps telling me to get married, and here I am attending all this stuff, obsessing over millionaires who have more money than I ever could in my life. I am becoming an old fucking lady and I don't even have a husband or family of my own. I guess all of us older armies might need to redirect our lives back towards ourselves".

She stomped away after that remark. Yoongi ran up to me as I walked back stage. He inquired , "Is Specs still there? I was going to ask her for her number".

I grumbled out with my hands on my head, "She left hyung. So did berry, a while ago. I think we are losing our OG fans. Berry never left me once in the last few years. Even when we became so famous in the US, she never stopped attending my events, even some of the big ones in the US. What went so wrong that she is quitting?"

Yoongi choked in confusion, "You mean to tell me that both Specs and Berry are quitting. They ain't even that old, maybe late 20s. Oh no, fuck!!! My baby, Specs, I never told her how much she meant to me. What did she say?" Yoongi, shook my arm hard, trying to squeeze answer out at me. "She said that she is becoming too old for this and maybe she should get married soon, because her mother is pressuring her".

Yoongi's eyes popped wide open, panic and fear evident in his eyes, squeaking, "WTFFFFF. Since when did they give up on us like this? I can't let Specs go. She has been with me before I was famous , looking like a homeless dude, and even now. I have to get her back!!!! The fuck, I need to talk to the ARMY fanclub president for her contact". He scurried off in anxiety, leaving me back to stew in sadness. What had I done so wrong for Berry to leave me after so many years? Something must've ticked her off. Shit, the chocolate. It all hit me in a frenzy. It was the Godiva chocolate. That limited edition Christmas chocolate she had left for me that day on set.

It had been one of the hardest days in my schedule, and just seeing her face had made it all better. But the irritation had gotten to me, and in my anger at being hangry on a diet, I had thrown the chocolate in the trash. Oh no. Wait. A dreadful thought entered my head. What if she thought, that it was my rejection of her support and love as a fan? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She probably thought I hated her or something when it was just a bad day.

What bothered me even more, was that she had skipped my event to attend a date. A date with a guy who was not me. This thought filtered through my head, and I froze. Why did it aggravate me so much that she was on a date with another dude? Then I imagined her soft eyes, gleaming with love as she stared at another guy, kissed him on the cheek, sharing a chocolate cake with him and partaking in a chocolate-fililed kiss on the lips.

I felt like literally crying. I don't know why I did. But, I just did. I had to find her no matter what and I had to do it fast, before she gave up on me.

Y/N POV

The date had been fine. Jung-shik had been a cute guy, all brown curls , shy smiles and blushes. He was one of the art managers at KBS who I had met at the bakery. We talked about work, music, and art, eating cheese cake at a cake cafe. He had been a true gentleman, asking me what I wanted to have and opening the door for me, even going so far as to drop me near the bus station.

I sat at the bus station, waiting for my ride back at him when I saw a billboard of the sexy man himself, Jungkook. I could never escape this guy it seemed, even in death. I had felt his stare at me and Kim Hee today. It was odd, he never stared at individual fans like. He did that with particularly beautiful Armys---total models and divas I tell you. But, never with me. Even Yoongi stared at Kim Hee like they had three kids together, like she was coming home with him, like she was married to him---as much as that girl liked to deny it.

I never felt him even acknowledge me, with a glance, till today. I could feel the smoldering presence digging into my skin. Probably cause I dressed up for once today. As I was about to get on the bus that had pulled in, I saw a flash of black fluffy hair.

Before I could get on the bus, a strong sturdy vascular hand encircled my wrist, stopping me from getting on. Looking up at this man's face, I realized who it was. Doe eyes pierced into my face with a cutting glare, a sneer on his face, chewed up lips contorting in anger and ......something that felt like envy, "Who the hell did you go on a date with Berry? You better not be giving my chocolates away to anyone else".

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #chubby reader #smut #eventual smut #angst #self love #jungkook x chubby reader #jungkook x curvy reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x plus size reader #jungkook bts #bts #bts angst #bts x chubby reader #bts x curvy reader #bts x plus size reader

[spookyquill]

The Thorns in My Heart are For You

Description: a Hanahaki Disease AU, Reader is in love with Dazai and has been for a long while. They were in the port mafia but they left with Dazai

Word Count: 2800

Part 2

Previous Part | Next Part (link)

TW: Blood, mentions of sickness, coughing up stomach contents, head over the toilet, passing out, alcohol

~~~~~~~~

Atsushi brought a different kind of light to Dazai. You watched him as he began hovering around Atsushi, teaching him all sorts of random things and dragging him to witness his events. A kid who should’ve held no mercy for the world, gave such kindness to everyone around him. Maybe he was an influence for Dazai, an ambition for him to follow. Whatever it was, it gave Dazai a different kind of glint in his eyes. 

You watch from your desk as Dazai laughs manically, having just thought up of another plan for an attempt. Atsushi walks gloomily over to you. “Hey (Y/n). Is there anyway you can convince Dazai to stop doing…” He gestures over to the man.

With a sigh, you reply. “Unfortunately no. I can talk to him as much as I can but it won’t stop him from wanting to. As long as someone is always around to help him out afterwards, he’ll be fine.”

Atsushi groans and takes a seat at his desk across from you. “Ranpo mentioned the other day that you and Dazai joined at the same time. Is that true?”

“Yeah.” You smile back at the memory. “We’ve been through a lot for sure, honestly I didn’t even think we’d make it far. But we’re here now, and I’m glad we are.” You look at Atsushi fondly. “You’ve saved him.”

Atsushi tilts his head. “Yeah. Didn’t he tell you how we met?”

You shake your head. “That's not what I mean. I mean that you gave him a new purpose.”

“Oh.” Atsushi looks to Dazai, who has now moved to poking Kunikida, literally. “I have?”

“Yeah. He’s gotten much happier since being here. He still acts the same but it’s… more. Like his smile is bigger, his laugh is more genuine. He seems to have found his purpose. And it’s been ever since he’s taken you in.” 

You hear Atsushi mumble, and barely catch his words. “I don’t think I make that much of a difference.”

You mentally slap him. “Atsushi. You saved him. Literally and figuratively. You are worth more than you think. Besides, everyone here has basically accepted that he’s your father.” You take a sip of your coffee as Atsushi sputters. “Don’t try to deny it.”

Before he can try to form a sentence of rebuttal, Yosano comes up to you. “I’ve been requested for a job nearby. Did you want to accompany me? We could go shopping afterwards if you’d like.”

You nod. “Sure! I’d love that. It’s been a while since we’ve shopped together.”

“Alright. We’ll head off then.” She walks away, her bag hanging from her shoulder. 

As you stand, you feel a familiar tickle at your throat. “Yosano, I’ll meet you downstairs. I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

Yosano waves, signalling her acknowledgment. You pass Atsushi a kind smile, waving him a quick farewell before you speed walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. 

You barely make it to the toilet before you’re spewing up your stomach's contents. Your lungs heave in pain, adding their own contribution to the mix. Your abdomen pulses in pain at having its muscles involuntarily clenched. It lasts for another minute before you can take a deep breath. 

Despite your arguments against it, you peek into the toilet bowl. 

Flower buds. Some half bloomed. 

“Great.”

~~ Time Skip a few days ~~~

It had been a quiet day. In fact, you had just finished your lunch break and were on your way back to your desk for even more paperwork to file. But something seemed different as you ascend the stairs.

You begin to wheeze about halfway up the stairs, your lungs feeling tighter than usual. It was confusing, normally you’d be able to jog a few flights of stairs before feeling even a little short of breath, but now it was halfway up one flight of stairs and your lungs were heaving. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You seem out of breath. Did you go for a run?” Dazai asks as you reach the office. 

You decide to go with the lie. “Yep! Sure did.”

Dazai hums. “It’s not a good idea to go running before or after food, you know.” 

You take a seat at your desk, taking in as much air as your lungs allow you to before exhaling in a sigh. “I know. But I had energy.”

Dazai is silent for a little while, and you think he drops the topic. But he speaks up once again. “You should let Yosano check you out. You don’t look that good.”

This time, you let out a sigh of annoyance. “She will probably just tell me that I need rest.”

“Maybe you should listen.” Dazai stands up from his desk, grabbing some things off his desk and heading for the door. “Take some days off to recuperate. You’ve been working a lot lately.” He smiles at you before he takes his leave. 

You felt conflicted. In one way you felt that he was discreetly calling you weak for needing a break. But on the other hand you felt that your hard work was being noticed. Strange. 

Before you can think much more about it, your phone chimes with a message. Looking at it, it surprises you who the messenger is. Regardless, you smile.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly. You finish off your paperwork with some spare time left over, so you begrudgingly take yourself to Yosano's office. She of course told you exactly what you thought she would. 

Once you left work, you went home, got changed into a more casual relaxed fit, and headed downtown. It doesn’t take you long before finding the restaurant. You enter, immediately being greeted by a server. 

“Hi! Reservation for Nakahara?”

The server nods and directs you through to the back of the restaurant where a few open booths line up against the wall. 

“Right on time.” Chuuya says as you reach his booth. 

You smile. “Chuuya! It’s been so long.”

Chuuya nods in agreement, sliding over to allow you space to sit next to him. You take the seat, using the position to give your friend a quick hug, relishing in the reunion. 

“How have you been?” He asks as he sets his fedora down on the table. You also take this moment to notice that his mafia coat isnt with him. 

“I’ve been alright. Work was quiet today.” You can feel your lungs heave with uncomfortable familiarity.

“Can imagine it would be. Lot of you working on cases and all that shit. Plus they have a hardworker like you on the team.” He bumps your shoulder, sending you a grin. 

A server quickly drops by a bottle of wine as well as two glasses before bowing and leaving the two of you alone again. Chuuya makes work with pouring the wine. 

“Yeah, but it gets quite boring pretty quickly-” You choke on a cough, phlegm rising up along with the too familiar tang of metal. You’ve been holding it back for so long today, refusing to let out even a small cough into your hand. It’s all been building up, and now your lungs about to force it all out.

Blood splatters over the table at the first cough. You cover your mouth, eyes going wide at the feeling of pressure at your lungs. You can’t even look at Chuuya at the moment. You jerk up from your seat, holding back coughs behind your hand as you stumble haphazardly to the bathroom.

You know you’re disturbing the entire restaurant, probably scaring everyone, but you couldnt give a fuck at that moment. All that mattered was making it to the toilet. 

You barely make it, dropping to the floor and skidding to the bowl, ejecting your body’s contents into it, both from your stomach and your lungs. 

It’s painful, the most painful thing you have ever experienced. Nothing trumps this. It feels like your body is on fire, exploding in white hot pain. Your muscles are too tense, it feels like they’re so tight that a breath of air could break them. You can’t breathe, can’t get oxygen. You feel light headed, it makes your head pound. Your stomach feels like its being squeezed of everything it has in one go, your lungs feel worse. It’s as if there are multiple hands inside your body wringing them of any and all moisture.

It feels like it's been hours by the time you can take a breath of air. You gulp the air, feeling much needed relief for a moment before your body forces another wave of ejection, thankfully this one doesn't last as long.

You feel someone behind you, hands caressing your hair out of your face and rubbing your back. A cascade of voices can be heard as well, one closer to you sounding louder and more aggressive than the rest. 

Chuuya.

You lift your head away from the toilet, opening your mouth wide to let as much air as possible in. Your head leans back, tears dripping down your face. You feel Chuuya pull your head gently to his chest, fingers threading through your hair. The feeling of nausea doesn’t feel so empowering now, so you let your body slump against Chuuyas. 

Time seems to slip by, your mind fading in and out of consciousness. One moment you open your eyes to being held in Chuuya’s arms, some servers surrounding the two of you. Another time you open your eyes to him walking outside with you. Another moment he’s tangling your body to piggy back his on his bike. Another moment passes and your pressed up against him by an invisible force which makes sense once you comprehend the red glow surrounding your body. You feel the wind whipping against your body, your head feeling cushioned by what you can only guess is a helmet. You close your eyes again for a bit longer.

When you open them again, you’re in a warm bed, a lamp dimly lighting up the room, not too harsh for your head. It’s warm, and the bed beneath you is soft, softer then your own. This isn’t your room. 

Chuuya comes into view, placing a damp wash cloth on your forehead. The cold cloth drowns you in relief, your head finally managing to connect with all five senses. Your mouth still tastes horrible, but it seems manageable for the moment. Your ears are ringing and sounds seem to be slightly muffled. The smell of warm chocolate brings to your a pang of hunger, your body desperately needing something to sustain it again. 

You groan, reaching up to Chuuya. “What happened?” Your voice is raw and only brings back the taste of what seems like minutes prior.

“You threw up is what happened. Scared the shit out of me, I nearly took you to the hospital.” He sits next to you, the bed dipping slightly with his weight. 

Carefully, he helps you sit up, situating you so you’re leaning against the headboard. “Why didn’t you?”

He grabs a small bowl of rice and some chopsticks on his bedside table, handing them to you. “You need to eat something, let your body recover what it lost.”

You take the bowl graciously, taking in small bites of rice before repeating your question. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?” 

Chuuya stares at you. “Well for one, I’m part of the mafia. Not exactly a place I’m allowed to be at without bringing the place down in fear. And you know the second reason.” 

Your heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

“How long have you had hanahaki disease?” He’s blunt, leaving you no room to sneak around it.

You sigh, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to escape him. “Just after I left the mafia.”

“Have you told anyone?” Chuuya asks.

“I’m telling you now.” You cringe slightly, watching his expression go from neutral to shock.

“You’ve been living with it for years and only now are you talking about it?!” He stands up. 

“Only because it’s starting to affect my daily life.” Your voice is but a whisper.

“Oh so you’d prefer no one knows about it? What would you have done if I didn’t find out? Would you disappear and never return?!”

“No I wouldn’t! I just…” You can feel tears start to well up in your eyes. “I just didn’t know how to talk about it. Because everyone would make a fuss over it and try to get the other person to like me. But I don’t want to force it on anyone.”

Chuuya sighs, pacing his room while running his hand down his face. 

“Are you mad at me?” You ask quietly, not daring to look towards him.

You hear him let out a soft groan before he approaches you, gently placing his hand atop your head. 

“I’m not mad at you. I’m frustrated that you didn’t at least tell me before you started coughing up your literal lung. But I’m not mad. Which is a surprise for even me.” He says.

You look up at him, tears welling up in your eyes. Chuuya stares at you with compassion, taking his seat by your side once again.

“So. Have you told him yet?” 

You let out a breath of laughter. “Who said I loved a man?”

Chuuya hums. “Well last I checked, Dazai wasn’t a woman. Unless he transitioned last time I saw him. And I’m telling you now, it’s impossible to transition within a week.”

You sigh. “How did you know it was Dazai?”

“You were quite an obvious crusher 7 years ago, and that part of you hasn’t changed. I’m surprised the smartass hasn’t caught onto it himself.” 

“Probably because he doesn’t love me and he doesn’t want to confront me about it.”

Chuuya scoffs. “Or he’s a pussy.”

You fiddle with your fingers as you speak. “Are you going to tell him?”

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Fuck no. That job is for you to do. And I swear to god if you leave it to the last minute I will slap you with your own flower.”

“I won’t. I’ll tell him tomorrow… I guess.” You say, your nerves spiking at the thought of telling him. 

“Good. Now what do you say we order in and bitch about work?” 

The rest of the night is spent in Chuuya’s room, drinking wine and eating takeout until you both end up passing out on the bed.

~~~

This is it. This is the day! Today will be the day you confess your feelings to Dazai. You had a plan and everything. Neither him or you had assigned jobs for the week, it was quiet, most of the agency was off on their own tasks or in their personal office. It would be secluded enough that only the two of you would be in the main room. 

It was perfect. You had been gathering up the nerves to confront him for the better part of 24 hours. Now was the time.

You approach Dazai, a confident smile on your face.

“(Y/n)! I hope you’ve been well. How about you take a week off in tokyo?” He hands you a train ticket.

…

“What?”

Dazai smiles, closing his eyes. “You’ve been working really hard lately. You deserve a break. So I went ahead and organised a luxury trip for you! You get a five star hotel with breakfast in bed. And you get a daily massage for free!”

You honestly didn’t know how to react, a mix of emotions coursing through you. Confusion, shock, disappointment, shame, utter bewilderment. Where do you even begin?

“See! You’re so excited you don’t know what to say!” Dazai cheers as he slings an arm around your shoulder. “Now, you don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve already organised it with Fukuzawa, and I even took the liberty of packing your things for you! All you have to do is take this ticket here and get to that train station!!!” He shuffles you towards the door, manoeuvring you in a way that leaves you no escape from him. 

“I’ll see you in a few days!” And he shuts the door in front of you, leaving you, and Atsushi who just so happened to walk up the stairs at that moment, completely baffled.

Was he mad at you?

~~

He was in fact, not mad at you. He had one of his predictions brewing, and this came clear to you as you exited the hotel bathroom, the toilet flushing away the bloodied petals.

The TV flashed with the news, a reporter standing in front of a green screen which showcases pictures of every single ADA member, including yours, in a wanted poster design.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #hanahaki disease #dazai #dazai osamu x reader

[orange-artist]

Hii, I hope this ask find you well :)

(Warning, I talk a lot, sorry abt that lmao)

Your gods au has been living rent free in my head. I'm still catching up on One piece, currently finished Marineford and your comic on how this would have gone differently really healed my poor heart (cry).

Anyway, I have this concept in my head that I wanted to share with you. Remember in Thriller Bark when Moria was stealing Luffy's shadow ? I like to think that since he's a god it definitely cannot be this easy.

Picture this :

Moria doing his little evil laugh while putting the shadow inside Oars.

And he wait, and wait and...nothing.

"What the-"

"I don't think they want to obey you."

Everyone turned around completely confused to the boy who was definitely supposed to be unconsious on the ground right now.

Moria didn't like his smile, and since when were his eyes red ?

Just then, the shadow pool out of Oars. Moving like liquid across the floor until they reach the feet of their rightful owner. The pirated sigh quietly in relief as his shadow is returned to him.

And now the shadow spread freely behind the boy. Filling the floor, growing bigger and bigger until it reached the ceiling. The light grew dimmer as the smile on the boy and his shadow grew wider.

Moria, shouldn't be afraid of a mere shadow, yet as he watched the pitch black behemoth clinging to the wall of his own home, he can't help but shiver.

The damn thing was as big as fucking oars, and the grin didn't help it make it more friendly.

"How do you... What are you doing?"

Moria looked at the boy, who look even smaller with his own shadow looming over his head.

Luffy smiled softly, as he remember something very important to him.

"A long while ago, my brother taught me how to talk to my own shadow. That way I was never really alone."

His grin now turned manic matching the one of his shadow.

"Do you want to see what I taught them too ?"

Btw english is not my native language so I hope it's alright I just wanted to share a bit of a that scene I keep having on my head.

Anyway, since Chopper and Usopp are witnessing all this, they are completely appalled. And when asked about is later, Luffy just say 'yeah lmao my big bro taught that, it's pretty cool right? :D' And they just have to accept it ig. Luffy might as well

- \(:/) /-

It's Sabo who taught him that. Since I think I remember you saying somewhere that he had shadows following him everywhere, and he's also called "Shadow of judgement". I just think it would be fitting if he could talk and control shadows in a way. And of course he taught his little crybaby brother a few trick so he could always have a friend to talk to. So Luffy is basically bestie with his own shadow. (I just think it would be sweet af.) It give him even more criptid vibe. Like you think he's talking to himself looking at the wall or the floor, but truly he just speak with his bestie lmao.

Anyway these are just my thoughts, do whatever you want with this

Have a nice day <3

AYOOOOOO

HOLY SHIT.

Pop off!!!! That's very chewy.

I've been thinking about Thriller Bark and

I think Luffy's shadow would be too free to follow anyone's orders. 😌 I personally wouldn't, uh, personify it, but goddamn is Luffy being friends with his shadow a fun thought.

#orange asks #asl god au

[whalesforhands]

heave your nausea pt.9

previous masterlist next

warnings: injury mentions, blood, stabbing, angst, i feel so dramatic for this chapter

The seconds tick by, each one weighing down heavily in the tense atmosphere, the dread that fills your lungs begging you to speak, to cull this tension before it gets worse.

Lightning flashes behind you as thunder crackles down.

Geto Suguru has grown older now is what you can notice in those few seconds. Longer hair that reached and cascaded down the length of his back, a small little bun holding his bangs together to allow that familiar strand to hang over his face. He’s taller, broader—

“Panda, get back-!” Yaga’s angered shout of worry is reverberating through the room of his office, the small bear leaping off before the older man’s strong arms could wrap around and catch him.

In the blink of an eye, the small animal had made its way to the incoming attackers, growling and acting out of pure instinct to combat the fear that shivered up his body, pacifier spit out before it pounces up and just about to land a hit before a sharp punch of one of the curses threw him back.

You bubble the small bear before one of Suguru’s curses could smack it away, head turning back just in time to catch the curse that was going for Yaga before—

“You should keep your eyes on me.”

You barely have time to brace yourself before you’re thrown through the window, shards of glass and bits of rubble bouncing off of the thin shield you’ve formed around yourself that was just enough to swallow the brunt of the impact.

(You’re hardly used to the effects of being ‘dead’ for so long.)

You hurriedly bubble yourself, flying away to create distance from him and Yaga. It’s you that he wants, right? Then he’ll follow.

“Hah.” His laugh is void of humor, the look on his face scrunched into one of despaired anger and sorrow that you swore you could see seeped deep into his very soul, shoulders squared and eyebrows furrowed in despondent misery.

“You think you can run? Taking that appearance, at the very least act a little like her.”

He’s already hot on your trail, even as you do your best to fly as fast as you possibly can, cursed energy flickering as you attempt to stabilize yourself. Sweat and anxiety bleeds into your very core.

You know he won’t listen to you right now, with the way his pretty amethyst gaze had clouded over, the way the corner of his eye threatened to spill the singular tear that was building up.

His body is acting against him to not hurt you. Yet, his mind was on a pursuit of revenge, compressed emotions of guilt and regret making him go berserk, hyper focused on only getting whatever was controlling you dead.

Because he knows, he’s accepted it by now, 6 whole years after that incident. Despite Gojo’s denial and almost manic obsession that only further twisted Suguru’s own possessiveness of your corpse.

You can never be alive.

(Yet, why are you standing before him, breathing once more? Why does whatever parasite within you act so similar? Down to your breathing pattern, way of movement, hell, to even the way you tuck your hair behind your ear— This hurts, thishurtsthishurtsthishurts—)

You’re sending out barrages of small, knife like hardened formations of your shields towards him, acting as a deterrent to slow him down.

“Her powers are not for you to use.” His voice is deadpan, cold and absolutely heartbreaking to hear as he flies through with ease.

Your hands clasp around the one that was squeezing your throat, his grip so strong that even you could tell he was barely holding back from crushing your windpipe.

He’s caught up to you, broke through your lackluster power through sheer willpower that was fueled by rage.

You can’t stop him.

“S-Su—!”

“Don’t you dare try that, you vile thing.” He clenches down harder on your neck, eyes softening just the slightest when he sees you struggle from the pain, before you see his focus, his anguish come back into light, the tears in his eyes beginning to gather the more he looks at you. “You’re lucky you look like that.”

The last sentence came out as a whisper, a silent act of mercy before his hold relents just a little, enough for you to speak. “Now tell me what you did.”

What did ‘you’ do to disturb the eternal rest of his beloved? What did ‘you’ or some sick higher up pull to try to gain an upper hand on both him and his family?

He’s blind to reason, acting on pure emotion as he looks at you again and again. As if drinking in the sight of you alive, the sight of seeing you being able to live up till this point.

Your life that he would’ve gotten to see bloom if he had been stronger that day.

(Then you would’ve never been in this situation. It hurts, tears at his heart as he looks at you.)

You’re going lax, black dotting your vision as you struggle to talk, to explain yourself.

“I don’t know…!” You’re struggling to breathe as you barely pant that sentence out. It’s the truth, you really don’t know. Your legs kick as you struggle for him to loosen his grip, your heart squeezing and clenching at the feel of your beloved Geto Suguru harming you.

You never wanted this.

“Not talking?” He suddenly drops you, letting you free fall from his grip in the sky as you blearily see him pull out a spear from his worm. “Then die.”

You can block this. You can, can’t you? No. Don’t try to risk it. Teleport instead. You look back only to catch sight of a blonde on the battlefield.

“Nanako, don’t—!” It’s too late, the picture had already been taken as the blonde girl starts focusing all her cursed energy into it, shifting the photographed items around in her panic.

A foolishly brave attempt to save you.

The background begins to shift, the trajectory of the already whirling spear rocketing towards the blonde girl now.

No—!

You’re pierced through your midsection, the weapon stopping short of your front as you feel the metal plunge deep into your guts, cold steel making contact with warm flesh as it embedded itself into your very core, your clothing seeped in your own blood as you choke from the pain.

Ah. It’s almost laughable how your teleport only ever works in situations like this.

“Geto and Gojo?” Yaga sighs, leaning back into his chair as he let a look of mock annoyance grow on his face.

You vigorously nod your head.

“Those troublesome brats married and adopted a bunch of kids together. The twins, a little boy and his sister.”

You can’t let her see her own parent in his manic state. You hold her closer, hiding her face away into your chest and pulling yourself together into her, practically smothering her face as you feel her start to cry, to tremble in your arms.

“I-I’m sor-Ry! I wanted t-to help!”

“Shh… Shh. I’m sorry, Nanako. Be good for now and trust—“ You’ve heard her call you that. “Mama… Okay?” You ignore the stabbing pain, ignore the agony of your physical body as you fight back the tears, the sheer suffering of the wound as you feel prickling burn of having a weapon shoved into you.

(Because Suguru must’ve gone through hell to be reacting like this.)

She physically relaxes, body going limp and slumping her head forward, the tension leaving her as you tighten your arms around her protectively.

“You damned fiend.” You can hear the soaring of the manta ray that closed in on the both of you, your back hiding Nanako away from plain sight.

“What?” He almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. “You think clinging onto whatever you’re holding now is going to—“

He feels it, that weak, faint, but familiar pulse of cursed energy. Nanako, one of his beloved children.

And it starts to hit him, the plunge of an arrow of realization sinking deep into his bones as he starts to gain back a sense, the smallest shred of reason that stemmed from his uncontrollable, unrelenting belief that you could still possibly be alive.

Not a single time did ‘you’ try to land a harmful hit on him.

Not a single time did ‘you’ care more about ‘your’ well-being first.

Not a single time did he allow himself to let go of his rage.

(All this time, he had still been grieving after all.)

No. Nonononononono—! It can’t be, he saw it, he saw the day that that incident happened, there is no plausible way. There is absolutely—

“You… Let Nanako go now.”

You relent, letting the little girl go as her teary gaze meets her own father’s. “Papa…” She’s crying hard, not understanding just what was happening right now. Why are you so beaten up? Why does he look so angry? There weren’t any scary curses for him to beat up… So why?

Explanations can be saved for later, Geto decides. A smaller, cuter curse is summoned. Friendlier and one of his least threatening in nature.

“Papa will— Explain later. Leave us for now, okay, sweetie?”

Nanako nods, quickly glancing at you and waving goodbye as you try your best to return, doing your utmost best to hide the fact you’ve been stabbed through your torso as she gets on the doglike curse that swiftly carried her away.

You’re both alone now. Rain pelting down onto the both of you as you’re slumped over on the ground, knelt down and defeated, the dress that you had awakened and found yourself wearing dirtied and stained in mud and debris, ripped and torn at the skirt from the battle. Bruises marked your neck and exposed skin as your blood flowed from the many cuts you had sustained.

It’s over. You lost.

“S-Suguru…” You manage to croak out as your fingers dig into the dirt below you. “I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes as tears spill down. “I-I don’t know.”

Don’t know how you’re here. Don’t know why you’re alive once more. Don’t know what’s happening anymore.

You’re ready to be executed by him if that was what he intends to do. You’re just happy you get to see most of them again after so long.

“Thank— You. For letting me see you all- again.” You’re trembling as you try to smile through it. To let him see at least that you won’t, don’t fault him for his actions.

You will forgive him no matter what. Simply because that was who you were.

In that moment, Geto Suguru realized he had made yet another mistake. The way your voice tenderly, softly enunciated each syllable of his name. Your manner of speech, your words. It’s irreplaceable, impossible for anyone else to imitate.

It is you. There is no mistake this time.

(Even if this was a lie, he’ll happily live in its beauty.)

He’s down on his knees before you now. Hand shaking reaching out and gingerly pressing your head into his chest. Right onto his heartbeat.

(Trusting. Unguarded. He’ll let himself be deceived just this time around.)

His forehead pressed against your own as you feel a tear hit your cheek, his now grown black hair cascading down around the both of you, acting as a curtain that barely shielded you both from the pouring rain.

“I missed you.” It’s your voice that echos in his ears first, like a broken melody that was overplayed a time or two, it shrouded him in his long awaited relieve. The night that ran low, leaving him alone all these years had him running, chasing after the long shadow the lone lamp extended to him. He held on and on and on, and yet— It dissolves away to hear you talking to him once more.

The guilt that riddled him for years dissipates with your flickering life.

“Shoko— I’ll bring you to Shoko, okay?! Don’t close your eyes!” He’s picking you up bridal style as he carefully, skillfully avoids pressing against your wound to keep your blood within you.

You’re barely responsive, starting to lose your consciousness again as you nod.

“If I get another chance…” Your hand trails up to his cold, rain ridden cheek. “I’d love to— Spend it with you all again.”

“Stop talking!” He’s crying now, shouting and ignoring you in favour of speeding towards the school with you in his arms, pushing his curse to fly faster and faster as he cradles you close.

He will make it this time around. He will save you and fix what he couldn’t. For if he doesn’t, he won’t be able to endure the pain anymore.

previous masterlist next

Notes:

Suguru gave up because he heard you call his name. That was enough for him.

Suguru has seen Panda before. He went easy on it and was careful not to hurt it too much even in his rage.

Much like Panda, he went gentle with you too. He still wants to preserve the body, after all.

Suguru has reversed cursed technique in this au. Much like Gojo, he can only use it on himself and not others.

Healing bubbles take a LOT and I mean a LOT of cursed energy. You don’t have RCT but you do have that aha.

Gojo’s still picking up Megumi and Tsumiki. Legends say that Ijichi’s just pulled the car up to the school.

You couldn’t really talk during your midair chase with him, it would slow your cursed technique because of how little cursed energy you could muster up. You were basically breaking into your reserves with how much you had left.

nvy’s aftertalk:

i have an obsession with u getting in deadly situations hahah

get it? cause pt.6 was called endure ur pain so that last sentence narrows back to it cause geto never fully stopped enduring it hahaha

#dyf au #geto x reader x gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #whalewrites #satosugu x reader #geto suguru x reader

[elsweetheart]

hey bb it me 😽

i think seeing dealer!ellie react to her gf unknowingly getting into a batch of weed brownies she made would be a fun prompt for u to write also i think she would b so sweet n take care of her heheheeheh

hi frankie pankie 🌸

here it is!!! srry it’s a little short :(

bad batch.

🎀 tw: weed, getting too high, general discomfort idk

you were a simple girl, you saw brownies— you ate them.

ellie was having a boring day, she had been catching up on a shit load of work that she was late in handing in having spent the weekend partying (for business purposes, of course.) and all she wanted to do was come home to her sweet girlfriend who she had told to let herself into her dorm. she opened the door to her room, stopping in her tracks when she saw you clearing off a brownie she had left in a tupperware box on her desk.

“oh shit.”

you turned to her with a smile, happy that she was back and screwing your nose up slightly. “ellie no offence but these brownies suck, like they taste weird.” you giggled slightly, tracking her with your eyes as she dropped her bag in the doorway with her mouth agape, walking over to the desk.

“babe, how many did you have?” she asked urgently and your smile dropped, wondering if she was saving it for herself and you’d been greedy. “just this one…”

“okay, um, so that’s an edible— babe. i would have given you like… maybe a quarter of that.” she edged herself down on the bed. right now was crucial, she knew it was gonna hit you hard and panicking you was gonna make things so much worse, so she had to be calm.

“what?” your eyes widened, and she wasn’t sure if it were the lighting but for a moment she swore your skin turned two shades paler like it would in the dead of winter. “no, no— ellie i don’t wanna—” she sensed your panic and she came over to where you sat, kneeling in front of you.

“hey, s’gonna be fine. we’re gonna get you some food, gonna put on a funny movie, we’re just gonna chill. it’s only scary if you’re scared, you know.” she smiled, her thumbs wiping over your knuckles. you let out a nervous breath, nodding. “‘kay, ellie.”

it had been 45 minutes and there’d been nothing. you were starting to think ellie’s supplier had given her fakes, leaning against her as the two of you giggled at the stupid scene in the disney movie. it appeared that ellie stopped giggling, but you were still going. everything became funny, and soon you were clutching her laughing.

“alright now loser, wasn’t that funny.” she chuckled back, before her eyes widened slightly realising that it was hitting you. “oh. okay.”

she leant across from you for her water bottle, uncapping it for you as you continued cackling against her. “hey, look what i got. waaater.” she whispered, as if it were the most important and expensive item in the world. you looked up at her finally in the low light, eyes blows out and glossy and your mouth made a small ‘o’ shape, entranced. “water.” you repeat and she nodded, bringing it towards your lips. “sip, do not chug it you hear me?” she commanded light heartedly and you did, taking minuscule sips. “atta girl.”

it was fine, you felt a normal amount of high for a while — but it seemed to continue to climb. the disney song playing out on the screen had seemed to be on a loop for an hour — a manic blur of bright colours and happy faces. ellie watched you from the side, feeling a little guilty at how amused she was at your engagement. “s’the movie good, baby?” she suppressed her chuckle. you slowly dragged your eyes away from the screen, reaction delayed and stared up at ellie.

“everything is… moving so much.” you closed your eyes, brows creasing as you lay against her.

“you feelin’ okay, bug?” she sounded sympathetic this time.

“j’s wanna be normal now.” you moaned into her, feeling a little motion sickness from her swaying her so slightly.

“i know, babe. you will be normal soon. well, as normal as you can be.” she added in a playful smirk, trying to lighten the mood. you didn’t find it funny however, so she distracted from the moment. “how’d you feel about pizza right now?”

#whore-era #dealer!ellie #ellie williams fluff #ellie tlou2 fluff #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams blurb

[wonijinjin]

THE WEEKND SERIES: REMINDER - YOON JEONGHAN

author’s note: i originally wanted to leave the the dark setting, but i just couldn’t, jeonghan is a cutie. dedicating this to my lovely @welcometomyoasis <3

synopsis: jeonghan shows yet another side of him noone has expected.

word count: 0.5k | genre: fluff, humour/crack, dark themes (horror) | pairing: jeonghan x gn! reader | warnings: cursing, horror/dark themes, blood, injury

the masterpost of this series can be found here.

“fuck you! you are not normal, you are a manipulating psycho.” you spit out while pushing him away from you, just hard enough to make him lose his balance, falling onto his back, smacking his face against the concrete. your eyes widen in horror since you do not expect him to actually hurt himself, but you don’t make an effort to help him regardless. “you are crazy, stay away from me.”you say while staring at his figure. he gets up and holds his hand in front of his face to tap it, revealing a bloody nose upon letting it go. he looks at his hand, then procceeds to smear the blood from his nose while trying to rub it off with his sleeve, a manic smile present on his face. you shiver at the sight; he can always creep you out in a single second, with a single action. he starts laughing. “go, run away. hurry up, leave if you can.” he inches closer to your form, leaning in, a little too close to your liking. you cannot say a word, you are too stunned to speak, gulping, waiting for his next move, prepared for every scenario, because you know he would do anything and everything you could think of. “but let me make this clear.” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his breath fanning out on your exposed neck. “every time you try to forget who i am, i’ll be there to remind you again…you cannot escape from the past.” he smiles so wide you are afraid his jaw will snap out of its place. you watch in fear as he lowers his arm, taking off and running away as soon as he is not in contact with your body anymore. you look back at him one more time and the last thing you can see clearly is his weird expression, something in it really making your blood freeze while leaving him in the dark alley.

“and…cut!” the director shouts, and the lights go out. everyone starts clapping and you burst out in giggles, watching as jeonghan whines about the ‘blood’ on his face. “good job everyone! this was the last take for today.” the camera director announces as you go up to your fellow actor. “you really looked like a maniac there jeonghan, i almost believed you were one for real.” you chuckle as he grins at you, bowing. “what can i say, i am the best for these roles.” you pat his back, getting ready to leave the studio. he walks along your side and you catch a familiar mischievous spark in his eyes. “i saw how you clenched your jaw in the scene earlier. you really thought i was mental back there, didn’t you?” he giggles. “i gotta say i got a bit scared. you make it look so real.” you admit shyly. “don’t worry. shall i remind you that i am a true nice one? how about taking you to dinner now?” he questions. you give him a nod, linking arms with him. “as you wish, nice guy.”

#wonijinjin #caratsland #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x you #seventeen yoon jeonghan #svt jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #seventeen jeonghan #jeonghan #svt drabbles #svt scenarios #Spotify

[valeriianz]

Hob doesn’t know why he agreed to go out on New Year’s Eve. The bar is packed shoulder-to-shoulder, it’s impossible to get a drink, and Hob keeps losing his friend group.

Despite feeling turned around, ears straining for the sound of someone calling his name, he’s determined to at least get one drink before the end of the night, pushing past strangers with ridiculous sunglasses– indoors– and 2023 hats. He’s waiting patiently behind a group of women, getting a loud whiff of their perfume as they spin around and yell past him, asking what their friends want to drink.

“I’m not going to survive this,” Hob says to himself, trying to catch one of the bartender’s attention.

“Nor will I.” A deep, dark voice speaks just next to him.

Hob looks over and nearly swallows his own tongue. A tall man, dressed in all black, is staring back at him, his eyes reflecting the flashing lights in the otherwise dark room. His skin is pale, from what Hob can see, down his long neck and incredibly sharp jawline.

“Oh?” Hob affects his best smile, sure it looks just as manic as he’s feeling, suddenly. “Your friends drag you out to watch the ball drop, too?”

Hob sees the gorgeous man chuckle, but doesn’t hear it. Only guesses by the way his lips part and his eyes shine.

“Yes, actually,” he leans over to speak properly in Hob’s ear, instead of continuing to shout over the music and sea of voices. “And I would love to ditch them.”

His breath hits Hob’s ear like a caress, soft and warm, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. 

“That’s not very nice,” Hob says, turning to also speak against the stranger’s ear, his nose brushing the shell of it, grinning to himself.

The man turns again, and Hob tilts his head with it, giving him his ear once more to speak in. The stranger’s shaggy dark hair brushes his cheek and Hob feels his legs wobble. He doesn’t know if it’s the energy in the room, their involuntary closeness, or how Hob can smell his skin, like the early morning air after a rainstorm, like the salty spray of the sea, but he is positively buzzing like a live wire from it.

Especially as those lips, a blush of pink against marble white skin, brush against his earlobe, his rich voice rumbling and nearly making Hob vibrate.

“I’m not a nice man.”

Hob swallows, his heart deciding then to try out for a marathon and running laps along his rib cage. He peeks sideways and finds incredibly blue eyes staring back at him.

He doesn’t know what to say. But the instant attraction between them lights Hob up. He’s not one for picking up strangers in bars, at least not since he was in college, but on the busiest night of the year? In New York City? Crammed in a room with probably a hundred people over legal capacity? Yeah, Hob could bend a little. He could bend a lot for Mr. Dark and Mysterious.

“Why would you say that?”

Hob watches the man’s lips twitch into a tiny smirk, and it only makes Hob’s smile grow. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to flirt with a complete stranger.

“I’ve been watching you for a while,” he murmurs against Hob’s ear, nearly making his eyes flutter shut. “I was going to offer to buy you a drink… unless you’d like to escape with me.”

“That’s very tempting…” Hob feels his insides twist pleasantly at the look the man gives him.

“You’re very tempting.”

Fuck, who was this guy?

They’re staring at each other, allowing people to brush past them, losing their spot by the bar, but Hob doesn’t notice. Doesn’t even feel the crowd around him anymore. Only finding himself lost in a sea of blue, with pupils dilated so wide in the darkened room, Hob almost feels like he’s falling into an abyss. Maybe he is. Maybe this guy is a siren out of water, coming here specifically to drag Hob down, to test his resolve. 

And Hob would gladly go, would happily follow him. He’s just opened his mouth, about to ask this stranger’s name, when he feels a sharp tug at his arm.

“There you are, Hobsie!” One of his friends– Hob can’t be bothered to remember which one, is pulling him backwards. “Forget the drinks, we gotta get down into the square now if we’re to beat the crowds!” 

The connection is broken. Hob’s jaw works uselessly, trying to protest, trying to call out, but his feet stumble along, allowing himself to be yanked back into the crowd. His eyes sweep above the dozens of heads and finds his stranger’s gaze one last time, staring at him with a mix of frustration and longing, and Hob feels regret screaming through his veins.

—-----------

The crowd outside is a hundred times worse, thousands of people in the street, streamers and balloons polluting the sky, but at least the air is clean and the lights are bright, giving the illusion of daytime, rather than minutes to midnight.

Hob doesn’t even pretend to pay attention, no longer indulging his friends but scanning the crowd instead, hopelessly looking for a mop of inky black hair and translucent skin that could reflect the artificial lights of the neon signs around them. He’s been out here for hours now, the layers of sweater, coat, boots and beanie doing nothing now to ward off the chill that begins to penetrate his bones.

A hopelessness washes over Hob, making him sigh deeply, knocking his head back to stare at the starless black sky. If two people were to ever meet twice on the same night, in Times Square, it’d be pure luck… or divine intervention.

He looks forward again, at the sparkly ball that seems miles away, so much smaller in person, hung high in the air. Hob’s eyes drift once more along the sea of hats and children perched on shoulders, the screams and shouts of excitement as the minutes tick down to midnight.

Then he sees him. Or, Hob thinks it’s him. A single dark head, hair sticking up, one of the few in the massive crowd without a hat on. Hob holds his breath, eyes narrowed in on that ink blot, waiting for some kind of confirmation, his memory of the stranger already quickly fading from his brain, the sensory deprivation of the packed bar messing with his recollection.

Hob gasps as the head turns, revealing a profile that has his heart skip. Sharp nose, small lips, long eyelashes that Hob can somehow see from here. 

Without thinking, Hob dives into the crowd, abandoning his friends who shout after him.

“Wait, where are you going!”

Hob pushes past the impenetrable wall of people, grunting as he went and keeping his eyes focused on his stranger, feeling crazy. Feeling absolutely insane for doing this. Parents yell at him and drunken party people try to catch Hob but he persists, stumbling and not even saying ‘excuse me’ or apologizing for the feet he’s stepping on.

“Fuck,” Hob grouses. It barely feels like he’s made progress, especially as an announcement rings out that there is only 60 seconds til midnight, and everyone is cheering and taking out their phones as the ball begins its slow descent.

People have already begun chanting at the 50 second mark, and Hob’s brain is scrambling. He’s catching up to the man from the bar, his back still turned to Hob and– he has a brief, worrying thought that he might be mistaken. That this isn’t the strange, gorgeous man who’d found him in that overloaded room. 

Forty seconds and Hob feels sweat trailing down his neck, closing in on a black coat with the collar turned up, hiding the pale column of his neck.

Thirty seconds and Hob inhales deeply as he’s finally found himself directly behind a shadow made real, an outline filled in with black paint. Hob reaches out, grabbing him by the elbow.

“Hey!”

Hob holds his breath as the man turns, and feels his face light up as the stranger from the bar sets his eyes upon him once more. His expression goes from deeply annoyed to genuine shock, his brows shooting up into his hairline and his lips parting comically.

Hob feels like laughing. The stranger’s eyes are so much more expressive, out here where the lights are bright enough to read by. 

Luck, or divine intervention. Hob feels a thrill rush though his body at the way the man studies him, like he never thought he’d see Hob again. And, well, that’d make two of them.

Ten seconds, and everyone around them is shouting the countdown.

The man’s lips move, speaking, but Hob can’t hear him.

“What?!”

With a small grin he moves in closer, like in the bar, lips brushing Hob’s ear.

“I said ‘holy shit’.”

Hob laughs. “Does your offer still stand?”

The man pulls back, nearly nose-to-nose with Hob as the people around them chant the final five seconds.

As an answer, Hob feels cold hands surround his face, thumbs swiping under his eyes as long, bony fingers slip into his hair, under his beanie, knocking it askew. Hob feels his breath stolen away as the man crowds further into his space, and all Hob can do in response is raise his own arms, wrapping them around the man’s middle, firmer than he’d guessed, and pulling him flush against him.

They don’t even make it to one before Hob’s eyes slip shut and he feels warm, chapped lips collide against his own.

The explosion of streamers and cries of “Happy New Year!” reflect the way fireworks shoot off inside of Hob, his body lighting up from the inside as thin lips move against his own, pressing hard and insistent.

Hob’s lips part as he feels the man’s tongue swipe along the seam, tearing a moan from his throat and pulling him impossibly closer. Hob works his jaw to keep up with the man’s vigorous kissing, nearly letting it overcome him, almost wanting him to. The man kisses Hob like they aren’t surrounded by a mass of people, bodies still pushing and pulling them, rocking the pair back and forth, holding onto each other like a lifeline. He kisses Hob like he’ll never see him again, and maybe they won’t. Maybe this is a chance meeting, maybe they should make this last, and fuck Hob– he was in so much trouble.

He feels his lungs begin to burn, the man’s hands on his face, in his hair, igniting him in the best of ways, but he’s starting to get dizzy. He whines a protest, but doesn’t pull back, doesn’t think he can, with the possessive way the stranger has him locked in his embrace.

But finally, the man breaks away, allowing Hob to take a deep gulp of air, before he’s going back in, making Hob groan, especially as his hands move again, gripping his hair and attacking his mouth with renewed vigor.

Fuck, Hob was absolutely fucked.

His own hands move, slipping up the man’s chest, his neck, and getting a handful of his hair as well, pulling hard and forcing a choked off, salacious noise to erupt from the stranger’s lips. Hob’s managed to remove the assault on his mouth, panting roughly, and shuddering at the dark way those blue eyes are staring at Hob, challenging and completely turned on. 

They take a moment to breathe, Hob’s hand still in dark hair, soft as silk, while his stranger’s hands have moved to his shoulders, waiting.

Hob loosens his hold and the man leans back in, brushing their noses and breathing each other’s air.

“What’s your name?” Hob asks, breathless and his nerves singing. The noise of people are louder than ever around them, but Hob knows the man hears him, and is hyper focused on him as well, ears straining for the answer.

“Dream,” comes the most erotic response Hob has ever heard in his life. “Yours?”

“Hob.”

Dream smiles, gorgeous, evocative, stunning Hob further.

“Hob,” Dream repeats, licking his lips. Hob feels all his blood rush south, his gaze instantly transfixed to the sight, which only makes Dream’s smile transform into a smirk.

“It’s nice to officially meet.”

Hob laughs, but it sounds broken, desperate.

“Likewise.”

#dreamling #dream x hob #STRANGERS TO LOVERS AHHH #HAPPY NEW YEAR #i wrote this in one sitting and now im RUNNING TO WORK #will probably post an edited version to Ao3 tonight #my writing

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

after my post about steve being just as obsessed with eddie as he is with him, i had to write something for it. with a little extra transfem!stevie flavour bc i have a serious problem

also on ao3 here

Robin has had enough. She’s spent all this time telling Stevie she’d always be there for her, but this is where she draws the line.

Stevie’s staring at Eddie Munson again.

Robin looked up from her shitty cafeteria food when she heard a dreamy sigh come from her best friend. Stevie had that look on her face again, the hopelessly besotted one that made Robin sure cartoony little love hearts would start popping up next to her head. Robin followed her eyeline and, yep, there was Eddie Munson, super-senior leader of the dungeons and dragons club, sticking carrot sticks up his nose to the uproarious laughter of his group of nerd friends. Robin shook her head in appalled fascination.

“Stevie. Babes. Why.”

Stevie turned towards her, tilting her head in confusion. “Huh? Why what?”

Robin waved a hand towards Eddie’s table. “Your obsession with Eddie Munson. It baffles me.”

“Wh- I mean-” Stevie flushed, looking back across the cafeteria with a shy little smile. “Just look at him, Robs.”

“Yeah, I’m looking. He’s trying to sneeze out a carrot stick he got stuck in his nose.”

Stevie giggled. “I know, he’s so funny!”

Shaking her head, Robin placed a delicate hand on her friend’s arm. “You don’t have to do this, y’know. I know pickings have been slim since you came out, but like. You’re still a catch! You have options!”

Stevie frowns. Robin hadn’t wanted to say it, but she knew Stevie had taken her ‘fall from grace’ after she transitioned pretty hard. She’d gone from King of Hawkins High to near social untouchable, and the whiplash had her privately confessing to Robin that sometimes she felt unlovable, like no one would ever want her again. It was ridiculous, but Robin understood that insecurity. She combatted it by complimenting Stevie whenever she could. And now by trying to dissuade her best friend from falling ass over tits in love with the first weirdo to be nice to her post-transition.

“It’s not that. He’s just so…” Stevie waved her hands around vaguely, searching for a word to accurately describe the apparent wonder that was Eddie Munson. Across the cafeteria, Eddie finally got the carrot stick out of his nose. He threw it towards the bin a foot away and missed, spectacularly. “He’s himself. It’s nice.”

“He’s himself.”

“Yeah! Like, he’s passionate about everything he does, and he’s not afraid of being judged for anything. It’s nice! Most people aren’t like that.”

“Most people are definitely not like Eddie Munson.”

Stevie rolled her eyes at her friend’s flat tone. “Plus, he’s super hot. And you can’t say anything about that one- you’re too gay to be an accurate judge.”

Robin groaned. “Steph, he dresses like an 80s vampire.”

“He has a distinct style!”

“It’s distinct alright- hey!”

Stevie had apparently had enough of Robin’s bitching, reaching over and trapping her in a loving sisterly headlock. They scrapped for a couple minutes, nearly knocking both their lunches off the cafeteria table, before being interrupted with a light cough.

Both girls looked up, Stevie immediately blushing a gentle pink as Eddie Munson appeared before them. He seemed nervous, fiddling with his rings and chewing on his lip. Robin watched the two stare at each other, and oh god. Eddie was down just as bad as Stevie was. He giggled a little manically at Stevie’s attention, pulling a lock of hair in front of his face and hiding behind it.

“Hi, Eddie,” Stevie said in a little breathless tone that had Robin about five seconds away from face-palming. She considered pulling out her phone and recording this conversation, just so that next time Dustin implied Stevie was some kind of goddess of romance Robin could show him the dumb little face she made as she stared at Eddie Munson’s chapped lips. “What’s up?”

Eddie smiled, shuffling his feet a little. “Um, so, my band is playing this Thursday- oh! Wait, I got you something-” He rummaged around in his bag for a second, cursing under his breath, before he finally pulled out a slightly crumpled looking sunflower and presented it to Stevie with a flourish. “A sunflower! Just reminded me of you- because you’re so sunny. Also it kind of matches that sweater you like.”

Stevie’s grin was blinding. She took the flower like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Oh my god! This is- Eddie this is beautiful!”

Eddie grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet a little bit, as if Stevie’s acceptance of his gift had filled him with so much happiness he was in danger of floating away. It was, unfortunately, the cutest thing Robin had ever seen. 

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl,” he said, and the cringiness of the line had Robin taking back every positive thing she’d ever thought about him. Stevie seemed to enjoy it though, if the pleased blush that spread over her face was any indication. “But I wanted to ask you- totally cool if not, I know it’s not really your style- but I’ve been practising some new songs for y- I’ve been practising some new songs. So, yeah, if you wanted-”

“Eddie,” Stevie interrupted, smiling up at him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. Eddie turned bright red. “Thursday, right? It sounds fun, I’d love to come watch you play.”

“Really? Great! I can pick you up at seven?”

Stevie nodded happily, bringing the sunflower to her face and turning back to Eddie with another besotted grin. “Seven sounds perfect! I’ll see you then! Just let me- I’m gonna go put this in my locker so it doesn’t get squished, but- yeah, I’m really looking forward to it!”

Stevie stood up, grabbing her bag, and hurrying out of the cafeteria. When she reached the door, she turned back and gave Eddie a happy little wave, which he returned with a sort of dazed look on his face. As soon as she was out of the door, he did a weird little jump/fist-bump combination with a loud whoop that had everyone in the immediate vicinity looking over at him.

Robin cleared her throat pointedly.

Eddie looked at her with a sort of deer-in-headlights expression that honestly she appreciated. Let him be scared of her. “So,” she said. “You’re taking my best friend out.”

Eddie blushed a bit, smiling despite his apparent survival instinct. “Yeah,” he said, dreamily. “God, she’s so out of my league.”

“She is.”

“She’s just so… wow.”

“Eloquent.”

“One time I saw her bodily lift that curly-haired kid she babysits out of the way of a car. Like fully carry him a foot off the ground for five steps. And then yell at him for like ten minutes for being a dumbass. What a woman.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, shit,” he said, looking down at Robin with a panicked look on his face. “You’re like, her sister basically, right? Was I supposed to get your permission to ask her out? Wait, no, that’s marriage. Later, then.”

“Okay, that’s enough of this,” Robin said, throwing her hands up and stalking out of the cafeteria, leaving a befuddled looking Eddie behind her.

They were just as bad as each other. Robin had a feeling she’d be cringing at those two at their wedding.

#steddie #transfem steve harrington #stevie harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #also keen eyed readers may notice how much i stole from the notes of that post everyone is so right and hilarious #my fics

[bowieandqueen11]

Dylan Lenivy With A Protective S/O Would Include...

Request: Dylan from the quarry with an s/o who’s like really strong. Like wrestle bears strong (or in the quarry case wrestle werewolves strong) and is very protective. Like i mean picking Dylan up and running or taking hits for him.

I genuinely love Dylan so much time to work through my writer's block for him bby!! :)

Warning: Strong language, mentions of blood/ injury, mentions of guns and werewolf attacks!

(I do not own the Quarry or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @moafleco.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Dylan Lenivy: darling boy, absolute light of my life!! I full on expected to come into this game and have Max be my favourite because I loved Skyler Gisondo in Booksmart and Night at the Museum 3 but Dylan really side swept my ass here and stole my heart I've got to be honest.

You can bet your ass during the whole Werewolf Attack night at Hackett's Quarry, Dylan will use whatever battery is left on his phone sending you cheesy texts just to check in and make sure you're okay. Be ready for your phone to ding about a thousand times a minute, until Kaitlyn finally cracks and shoves it, still vibrating, into one of the cubbies in the nurse's office.

'Hey sweet... baby-heart! Wait that sounds weird let me start again. Hellooo there sweetheart!❤️🥰 just wanted to make sure ❓that you’re still alive! 💘😖 and not ripped apart! 🤞❌ anyway love you please don’t get eaten by a swarm of bears!! 🐻😘'

Ryan had the joy of reading that one over his shoulder in the radio shack, and the groan he emitted was so loud they both ended up having to pitch over each other and duck under the table because it drew Caleb back up onto the roof.

The poor guy keeps peering out between the slats of the radio shack window like a scared meerkat popping up from behind towering rocks, thinking he can see you float past in a mist of lucent white, weaving through the treeline. He keeps pacing back and forth, back and forth sweating buckets because he's so terrified, and so ashamed that he's cowering in here while you may be in danger out there. Even Ryan's awkward offer to let Dylan borrow his earphones for a while: to sit with his knees drawn up to his chest in the corner and just breathe for a minute while Ryan kept watch, was met with an uncharacteristic sharp intake of breath and manic shake of the head.

So when you come bursting through the rickety door: drenched from head to toe in Nick's metallic reeking blood and propping Chris Hackett's shotgun in your arms, neither of the two men know what to do. But when a crash of lightning makes the full moon glowing behind your head shudder, making the pulsating umbra shrouding your head seem all the more monstrous, Dylan suddenly does.

The man starts screaming in a key that only dogs had a chance of hearing.

When he finally realises that it's you and not - you know - the 'Hag of Hackett's Quarry', and he's spent enough time bent over with his hands resting on his knees trying to catch his breath, the nervous butterflies in the pit of his stomach suddenly turn into somersaults. You came back for him. You came to save him. You care for him that much: love him that much, that you were willing to risk your own life just to try and save his.

Even though he's known you since you were seven years old: even though the two of you had met all those years ago during your first week at this very same camp, catching each other's eyes and waving as he bundled up to Chris' office with a brand new tape player he had restored in his arms, and you helped one of the younger girls pull her luggage out from the back of her parent's van, the true extent of how much he could fucking love someone hits him like air freshener to the face.

Even though the two of you used to sneak out of your bunks and meet up at midnight in the Shady Glade, bumping down beside each other on the dewy grass, constantly craving each other’s company. You made him blush one night, when you suddenly grabbed his hand and intertwined his growing fingers over your smaller ones, pointing up at the moon, and the glowing stars, not realising the little side eye, euphoric look he would give you. 

Even though his heart had flipped over there and then: greedily gorging and festering in his chest, even though he had spent years stifling the feeling until he learnt that he was lucky enough to have it returned, it still shocked him to realise you didn't see him as a waste of space. As a spent joke.

And then his hand gets bit, and everything changes. It must have looked at least a little bit funny when it happened, considering there was not a chance in hell you were about to let any mystical creature drag off your poor boyfriend. As soon as Dylan got swung up to the roof: screaming and begging for you and Ryan to get him down, you jumped onto the desk and latched yourself on Dylan's back like koala bear. Your legs are quick to wrap around his waist until your heels kick up onto the slats, your arms wrapping around his waist until you manage to reach past and grab onto thick handfuls of warm... oozing fur.

With a swift punch to the snout, the two of you fall unceremoniously to the floor in a resounding crash. You managed to cover most of Dylan's moans during your fall by cradling him into your stomach, taking most of the brunt of the force. The poor guy for a moment just curls up on top of you in a state of wide-eyed shock, the side of his cheek heavy as he smooshed it against the side of your jaw. It's almost domestic: almost sweet, as he tugs his legs up between your knees and hides his eyes by turning his head into the curve of your neck. It's the same manner in which he wakes up every morning, hiding himself by nestling himself into you every time the sunrise comes falling through the dusty cracks of the Quarry's alpine blinds and makes him jolt awake.

This time, though. This time is far worse. Because then he starts laughing: a hoarse, shaking, unnerving noise that seems to seep through your throat and make you choke on your tongue. You do your best to grab onto his biceps as he starts shaking, his hands beginning to ball into your shirt as the reality of what's just happened to him settles in.

This man has seen enough horror movies in his life. If he's going to die, he wants to do it lying here in your arms.

Before he knew what was happening, he's being lifted up into your arms bridle style and rushed out towards the pool house. The whole way there, despite the agonising pain he's in, he keeps pressing his lips into your collar bone and giggling like a school boy caught head over heels by his crush. Even when your hands finally slip off from underneath his knees and you gently perch him on the edge of a sink, he's still cradling the side of his head on his neck and looking down at you as if you hung every star in that unbridled sky. It doesn't matter if you're trying to use a cloth to clear some of the blood from underneath his eyebags, or using some bandage Abi found in one of the pool lockers, this man is too busy trying to spend every second he has left as him enraptured by you. That means you have to work with him biting his bottom lip and smiling wonkily as he dodges the cloth and instead grabs onto your fingers, pulling them to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles one by one languidly. He looks so soft - so goddamn soft as he nudges his cheek against your intertwined hands, letting them rest against the side of his face.

He gets really fidgety, and it's then that you suddenly understand he's asking for a reassurance kiss: for the knowledge that you're not going to leave him. He’ll never say it outright, because deep down he’s too embarrassed and touch starved to admit it, but you can always tell. He has so many give away signs: he starts looking down at the floor, taps his feet against the tiles and fidgets his hips back against the porcelain, plays with his fingers by threading them through each other until you lean up to kiss the tip of his nose, and then he just beams with pure, unbridled happiness.

'You're so beautiful, you know that?' Even with the tendrils beginning to twist up his forearm, even half delirious with the stress of what had been happening that night, even thinking he's about to die he's still thinking of you. Worried about you. Desperate for you to know, that it's always been you. That it's all you.

'Dylan... I love you too, but if you keep putting yourself in danger to save everyone else I'm going to kick you into Lake Septimus ass first, okay?'

'Look, I've never met the guy, and although I'm sure he's lovely you're the only person I want to fall ass first onto', he replies, trying his best to hide how his eyes were starting to burn: how his eyes were beginning to crinkle with the effort of stopping his face contorting in pain by cupping your cheeks with his large palms and pressing a lingering, needy kiss against the side of your mouth.

'Ew. Gross, guys.' You turn your head to raise an amused eyebrow at Kaitlyn, but she only shakes her head and turns her attention back to the knitting gash on Nick's leg.

He seems to spend half of the time hiding behind your back! Like, you can just feel the slight tremble as his slender fingers touch your shoulder, and then the growing shadow against the lodge chimney as he jolts behind you. He's trying his best, bless his heart, even though the way he tucks the jut of his chin into your shoulder blade and grabs onto your biceps restricts you from shooting off Caleb when he comes clambering up the stairs towards the two of you.

But also even though he knows you're super bad ass he is 100% ready to launch himself, full-body starfish jump, in harm's way at the first sign of danger. Such as when Emma comes jumping out of the minivan, and Dylan straight away launches you away from him and nearly bearhugs her to the stony ground. Thankfully, you manage to tear off a branch from one of the encircling pine trees and strike the werewolf off Dylan; a near home run hit had her scrambling off into the woodland again as fast as her four legs could carry her. For a moment, your boyfriend just lounges against the dirt, shaky breath only interrupted by the sound of his wincing as he begins to flick pebbles off the deep scratches lining his elbow. Then, before you can even blink, he comes scrambling on his hands and knees towards you like a prowling predator, before melting into you. His arms are quick to lock behind your hamstrings; Dylan doesn't even bother to get up off his knees, he just shoves his head into your bellybutton and refuses to move until he can feel your fingers card through his scalp.

'Oh my god!', he finally starts, once you begin to unlatch his rusted fingers from around his legs by pulling at them one by one. 'I can't believe you never told me!'

'Told you what?'

'That you're secretly the sports coach! I knew Jacob was too much of a butthead - I just knew he was too busy playing hookup to look after the kids. That's the real tea from this summer.'

For real though - it doesn't matter where you are: turn around and Dylan's on your heels like your own personal walking, talking, screeching shadow. You have a bet with Kaitlin on whether he's managed to build a teleporting machine during his free time in the radio shack, because you could be down scouting the kitchen and he could be up looking at the weird family pictures in the lodge's attic, but at the first sound of any kind of howl he's there. You barely have time to duck down behind the counter before your boyfriend has made you jump out of your skin; he's standing right by the freezer (how tf did he manage to get all the way there without you hearing him??), completely out of breath and holding a cast iron skillet in his hands like a baseball bat.

'What?', he shrugs down at you with a tired smirk, putting his free hand on his hip and wiggling them a little. 'My mom always told me that it's better to be prepared than to catch anything unexpected. And I'm not letting you get bit too.'

'I'm... not quite sure that's what she meant. But thanks, sweetie.'

The nickname has his face burning a deep-set roseate for the next thirty minutes.

And then the two of you meet Laura, and this man's world just turns upside down. You turn down her offer to join her in trying to find Chris Hackett and end all of this for good, but from where Dylan was sitting on the bench next to the rattling window, he missed out on your reasoning why. He missed out on how you'd admitted that your sole focus: your one care now was to make sure that Dylan was safe. That you cared about him more than anything, and Mr. H could go to hell as far as you're concerned. You had to make sure Dylan survived the night.

Dylan's eyebrows crumpled when you came, cross armed, to unsteadily take a seat next to him again. He was too nervous to ask what the two of you had agreed, so he just fiddled with his thumbs and let the idea that he was holding you back darken his thoughts.

That he was a hinderance. That he was an annoyance.

He doesn't know what else to do, so as the two of you head out to the Hackett scrapyard in search of a new rotor arm, he takes up every silent moment by cracking wise. It starts to worry you - the way he can barely touch you. How he holds his hands in near claws against the meat of his biceps: how he barely lets his leg brush against yours before he jolts away again as if electrified. He even seems anxious when you reach out and grip onto his hand, his hold limp and loose as he lets it sway uneasily in the growing gap between your bodies.

He's just so afraid that if he lets go now, you'll be letting go of him forever. So he doesn't want to hold on at all. He feels it will be easier this way: kinder to you, to feel as if he's just drifting off with the breeze, a fond memory of long summers spent at some strange, long forgotten Quarry.

But you know him far too well not to register the full-blown panic behind his eyes as he dares to take a glance over at you. So please, shove this guy up against the nearest trunk of a tree, hold him up by shoving your knee in-between the seams of his thighs, and kiss him silly until all he can do is saunter off with a dopey smile and a brain so far up in the clouds all he can do is laugh rather than string together a sentence!!!

Literally I feel like this would heal him. Give this poor bby the love he's so desperately craving.

Straight up hefting him over your shoulder and carrying him away from Caleb in the scrapyard. The confused look on Kaitlyn's face as her head slowly turns to follow the set of you sprinting past with a screaming Dylan folded over your back like a snapped ruler is mfcking hilarious I'm not going to lie.

You refuse to leave him in the crane. Not even when he's gouging into the balls of your shoulders, crying and yelling and begging you to leave. To run. To get the hell away from him while you still can. Between his tormented yelps, you do your best to grab onto his face despite how forcefully his body's contorting. Despite how his fingernails are starting to cut into your skin and send blood blooming out in wispy tendrils across your shirt. You just place your thumbs up against the darkness obscuring the sides of his eyes and try to keep Dylan looking at you. To try and make him understand, to try and make sure the last thing he saw before he turned was you not leaving him. Not Ever.

#the quarry #the quarry imagine #dylan lenivy #dylan lenivy imagine #dylan lenivy x reader #dylan lenivy headcanons #dylan the quarry #dylan the quarry imagine #dylan the quarry x reader #dylan the quarry headcanons

[cloudsmooch]

Strawberry Seed

Sydney knocks you up. Now you have to tell Sirris. - Male Corrupted!Sydney/AFAB Reader (gendered terms used, girlfriend, mother, etc.) only one single use of Y/N which I hate and try to avoid but I felt like it was necessary for the moment! - Also found on AO3 here!

"So careful…"

"...my dad…"

"...we're okay…"

Sydney is close to wearing a hole in the floor as he paces nervously around his living room. You watch from your spot on his couch, your face pale and stricken, and you only half listen while Sydney occasionally mutters words to himself that you can't quite catch in your stupor.

On the coffee table separating you lies a pregnancy test, with two faint positive lines.

"We haven't… our vows…" Sydney mumbles as he walks the length of the hallway again. His hands gesture manically in his imaginary conversation.

"Jordan…"

At the mention of the Temple's priest, you finally snap your head up to look at him. "Syd?"

Your boyfriend either cannot hear you or doesn't want to, and he continues his measured strides while muttering under his breath.

Even though Sydney had taken a considerable step back from his duties at the Temple since the two of you made your vows to each other and fallen head over heels into an exploration of life's more carnal pleasures, he still can't seem to shake the hold Brother Jordan has on him, or the shame that follows closely behind at the thought of being punished for the product of this sin you've committed together.

"We're promised to each other… he knows that… we're okay…"

You both know what sort of punishment would've waited for you if this had happened outside of your Promise, and you can't help but utter the same words in your own head now as you remind yourself that's not the case. We're okay. It's okay.

You slowly get up from the couch and maneuver around the coffee table, your eyes fixed on Sydney's pacing form to avoid looking at the dreaded pink lines in front of you. He takes no notice of you until you plant yourself in his way, gingerly taking his clammy hands in yours as he comes closer.

Your heart breaks at the look on his face. He only recently traded in his glasses for contacts, and now there is nothing to obscure the guilty furrow of his brows or the sorrow behind his eyes as he finally looks at you properly. But before you can say anything, more frenzied words tumble out of him.

"I'm sorry," he bites out, gathering you in his arms and nuzzling his face into the crook of your shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

You embrace him tighter as tears sting your eyes. You grit your teeth and run your fingers through his loose strawberry blonde hair, the action soothing yourself more than him.

"Why are you sorry?" you ask, trying your best to keep your voice light and strong. "It's my fault, too."

Sydney shakes his head as much as he can in his position against you. "I did this to you," he insists, his voice muffled.

"Syd," you say as you pull back to look up at him. You cup his face in your hands. "It takes two to tango, and we tango a lot. We tango all over the place. We're tango fiends."

He fights a soft grin forcing its way onto his face, and his own hands swallow yours as he grabs onto them tightly.

"Don't make me laugh right now," he whines through his smile, appreciative of your attempt to cheer him up but refusing to let go of the grave mood that has taken over his empty house. The grin quickly fades away, and a new somber, sober look replaces it as he says your name. "I really am sorry."

"I know," you nod, ducking your head slightly to avoid eye contact and hide the cracks in your brave façade. "Me too."

There's no point in wallowing, you think. You've never been one to catastrophize. But this is different, and you can't help but feed off of your boyfriend's nervous energy. So you smile up at him; love, affection, fear, and everything in between gleaming in your eyes despite it all.

Sydney takes you in, his heart swelling over your determination to stay sane through this moment. It's hard to believe a piece of him now grows inside of you as you speak, a little fragment of your love and adoration for each other. He's sure his heart will burst, from fear or excitement he isn’t sure, and he gathers you closer in his arms and tucks you against his chest, allowing the smell of your hair to calm him before he has a heart attack in front of you.

"What do we do now?" you ask into his chest after a brief moment.

Sirris will be home soon. The thought comforts Sydney more than it frightens him, as his dad will certainly know how to answer that question. He leads you back to the couch and holds you while the two of you wait and listen for the car to pull into the driveway.

Sydney knows how he wants to answer you. As frightened as he is, there isn’t a single part of him that wants to get rid of the baby. It's yours. You made it together.

But he loves you more than anything, and he knows ultimately the decision is yours to make. Your lives will never be the same if you decide to keep it. It will never be the same if you decide not to.

He refrains from voicing these thoughts as he holds you. As for what comes next...

The Temple will require you to marry, of course. Pregnancy is common after the Right of Promise, and the more Sydney strays away from the Temple's doctrine the more he comes to realize the Right is little more than a way to create more Initiates and ensure its members' devotion didn't falter.

But he knows that even if there weren't pressure from the Temple, he would want to propose to you. He wants you forever. This was just expediting it.

He's less sure that he wants to bring a child into the kind of life he had been living before you came along. A life of ignorance and strict, unyielding rules. Shame, guilt, repression, the list goes on. A surge of protectiveness swells in him, makes his chest ache and urges him to place a hand over your belly. Instead he tightens his hold on you at the thought of involving the Temple in this moment, or any moment after. That instinct alone tells him all he needs to know.

It's not too long before lights strobe through the partially open blinds in the window behind you, and the sound of wheels on pavement comes to a slowing halt outside.

"Want me to do the talking?" you ask, your voice small and resigned.

A car door slams shut. Sydney shakes his head, nuzzling his nose against you as he does so.

"No. I'll do it," he answers. Despite your sound logic that you are both equally responsible, deep down he still feels it's his fault, and he refuses to add to your stress by making you lead this discussion.

Sydney presses one more kiss into your hair for good luck before the front door opens, and his dad steps through. He smiles once he notices you both sitting on the couch, a briefcase in hand.

"Hey, you two," he greets, shutting the door and tucking his car keys into the pocket of his pants.

Sydney peels himself away from you and moves to stand. Sirris notices and raises an eyebrow in interest, immediately knowing something is wrong. He carefully sets his briefcase down on the side table near the door before turning to the two of you.

"What’s going on?" he asks casually, and it only adds to the awkward, suffocating tension.

Sydney takes a moment to gather his courage. From your spot on the couch, you slip your hand into his and give it reassuring squeeze. He squeezes yours back, and releases a shaky breath before turning his attention back to his dad.

"We have to tell you something."

Sirris stills for a moment like he's bracing himself for whatever it could be, peering over his glasses and prompting for his son to go on.

"Alright."

He doesn't sound angry or upset, only suspiciously patient, but no more words come from Sydney. His free hand works itself into a fist, while Sirris tilts his head expectantly. He hasn't noticed the test on the coffee table yet, and for some reason the thought of him seeing it is shameful to you. It triggers you into panicked action, like you need to beat him to the news before he can come to the conclusion himself.

You pull yourself up forcefully, almost tugging Sydney back down onto the couch as you use him as leverage to meet Sirris' eyes.

"I'm pregnant," you blurt out.

Sydney sputters and corrects his balance just as Sirris' gaze moves to you, and then finally falls to the pregnancy test. His eyes have widened from your outburst, but the surprise on his face is brief, and it settles into something calculatedly calm.

“I see,” he says. He takes a few steps towards the table and peers down at the test as if wanting to read the results for himself. His posture is relaxed, and he hums to himself once he sees the two faint lines. "This certainly would indicate that you are."

You and Sydney are still as Sirris nods to himself, and you watch quietly as he settles into an armchair, crossing his legs and pushing his glasses up with his finger. You sit back down on the couch, easing Sydney down with you. He's washed in a shameful silence as he settles beside you and waits for his dad to continue, but his hand instinctively reaches for yours.

Sirris sees your fingers interlock, sees Sydney pull your joined hands into his lap as his other hand shields them. It's interesting to him, interesting that his son uses two hands to hold only one of yours.

"I'm assuming you used protection?" he asks.

You nod sheepishly. "Yes, sir."

Next to you Sydney blushes, but his brows furrow with irritation. "Of course we did."

"You've taken more than just one test to confirm?"

"Yes," Sydney huffs.

Sirris eyes you both over. He's not pleased, but he would be a hypocrite to be angry. Sydney himself was an unplanned surprise. He lets you both squirm under his attention as he continues to probe into your sex life until he feels he's been cross for an appropriate amount of time.

"Well, I can't say I'm all that surprised," he finally says. "You are promised to each other, after all."

An amused smile ghosts his lips. He doesn't buy into that Temple rubbish, but he had always fostered anything Sydney showed an interest in. Even if it was something as insufferable as organized religion, or this strange, quiet orphan.

Sydney can't help but roll his eyes at Sirris and his gracious sarcasm, and for a moment he forgets that he's breaking the news to his father that he had knocked up his girlfriend. Now he's just annoyed, muscle memory of past conversations and debates about science and the Temple overriding his nerves, and it makes Sirris chuckle. He's done posturing.

"What's done is done." He claps his hands and stands up, looking down at you and Sydney. "Now we must deal with it."

You blink up at your science teacher, bug-eyed and mouth gaping at the sudden change in atmosphere. Sirris launches into how Sydney was conceived similarly, and all the things he and his wife had to prepare for and consider. Sydney blushes and groans from embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands as Sirris walks over to his briefcase to open it with a satisfying click. He rifles through several papers before grabbing a specific pamphlet and calls your name.

"You might recall getting one of these in class," he says as he walks back over and hands the pamphlet over to you. It's one from the teen pregnancy segment he did a few months back. Unbeknownst to him, the condoms he handed out that day were almost immediately used up by you and Sydney.

"I guess I didn't read through it that carefully," you mumble.

You open the pamphlet up to make Sirris happy, but he's saying your name again, gently this time, before you can read much.

"We'll get you an appointment at the hospital. But then you have an important decision to make," he says gravely. "We will make sure you're sufficiently informed of your options, and will be here to support you no matter what you decide."

You look over to Sydney. He's already staring at you, his expression full of affection, his eyes tender, as he soothingly brushes a hand up and down your arm. His eyes stray over your lips, and he nods in agreement.

"What do you want to do?" you ask softly.

He opens his mouth to speak, but he stops himself. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Yes, it does," you frown at him. He's already shaking his head before you finish speaking, so you rearrange yourself to face him head on. "It matters. It matters to me."

Sydney sighs. "I know," he pecks a kiss into your temple to soothe you. "That's why I don't want to influence your decision."

To his surprise, your face twists in anger. You grip his arm tightly.

"We're in this together. I don't want to make this decision without you."

Sydney feels his resolve crumbling the more he looks into your eyes, sees the sternness behind them and the set of your jaw. You'll make a great mother, he knows, whether it's nine months from now or years in the future. He sighs again, this time in frustration, but it isn't directed at you.

You've both almost forgotten Sirris is still in the room with you, and he clears his throat as he peers down at you, his arms crossed.

"Nothing has to be decided on tonight," he begins to move towards the kitchen to give you some privacy. "Soon," he calls over his shoulder, "but not tonight. Have you both had dinner?"

Sydney looks at you once more and can tell you're not ready to move on from this yet, but you're tired, and you slump down further into the couch as he calls out an answer to his dad. He leaves you on the couch as he follows into the kitchen where Sirris is reheating leftovers from the day before.

"Can she stay here tonight?" he asks.

Sirris pokes around the buttons on the microwave. "I suppose so. It's not like any more surprises can come from it," he shoots his son a look as he continues to flit around the kitchen looking for silverware.

Sydney grimaces, and he deflates against the counter. "Dad," he breathes, looking down at his hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I should've..."

He's not sure what he's trying to say, but Sirris seems to know anyway. He sets his plate down on the counter and wraps a hand behind Sydney's head, bringing him in for a hug. Sydney relaxes into it and feels like he can breathe again.

"It'll be alright," Sirris murmurs, and he shoots him a wry grin as he pulls away. "You're living proof of that."

Later that night, you and Sydney crawl into his bed. It's a tight fit, but it's never stopped you before, and any need for personal space had been snuffed out of Sydney quickly after he met you. You face each other, your hands tucked under your cheeks, exhaustion from the taxing evening overtaking you both. His arm hangs loosely over your waist, but he drags it along the length of you to cup your thigh and drape it over himself so that you slot together more snugly.

"I love you," he says. You're still quiet, thoughts swimming in your brain, and he feels the need to remind you.

Your hand glides up under the sleeve of his shirt to run your fingers against the cool, smooth skin of his upper arm. "I love you, too."

Neither of you say anything for awhile, but despite how tired you both feel, sleep eludes you. A low fire burns in its place, deep in your bellies; one that, for Sydney, never truly dies down completely. Especially not when he's this close to you.

He can't bring himself to touch you that way right now. Not when he can feel you tremble beside him, your anxiety causing your foot to tap incessantly under his sheets and preventing you from truly relaxing. His fingers graze your lower back, sliding up under your shirt, just as desperate as you are for any kind of skin-to-skin contact.

"I'm scared," you mutter, surprising him. He had resigned himself to continuing the conversation tomorrow. "Are you scared?"

Sydney nods, continuing to brush his fingertips against your spine.

"Shitless," he admits with a chuckle. He supposes now is the time to tell you what he wants, and he commits to it in the privacy of his room. "Becoming a dad... I thought I'd have more time to become less scared." He squints down at you the best he can in the dark without his contacts in. "But I want it, Y/N. I want everything you're willing to give me. Even this." He feels himself smiling. "You know how greedy I can be."

You roll your weight into him, huffing laughter into his chest as you do so, and he scoops you up in his arms with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, I do," you agree, a smile in your voice. Then you sober up again. "I'm not sure what I want. I just know I want you."

Sydney can't help but lower his hand to your ass, giving it a chaste squeeze meant to lighten the mood. You're smiling again.

"You have me," he says earnestly.

You prop yourself up onto your elbow and snake your other hand up his chest to cup his jaw. Your lips graze his softly, and you only break apart for a brief moment before his arms envelop your waist completely, drawing you in closer for a firmer, more heated kiss.

You slide your hips over his as the wet heat of your tongues massage each other, and Sydney finally slides his hands under your sleep shorts to cup your ass properly and squeeze the flesh. You rock into him and his firm grip helps you meet his own arching movements, until you're a heaving, panting mess.

When you fully lay your weight back down on top of him he takes the opportunity to urge you onto your back. He hovers over you and meets your lips again, relishing the sounds they make when you break apart over and over. These kisses are quick and chaste, taking every free moment he can to press them into your mouth as he helps you slide out of your shorts. His shirt is stripped from him and thrown somewhere onto the floor as well, and he gives you one more fervent, smacking kiss.

He sits back to push your shirt up and expose your breasts. He mouths at a nipple, sucking roughly and wetly, shooting sparks straight down between your legs.

Something similar sparks within him, a glint in his eye that reminds you of why you're both here and what has led to this night. It's a possessive look you've only seen once before, in the Prayer Room, and have only seen hints of since.

You watch as he attaches himself to your other nipple, and you know you're both now imagining each breast full and aching with sustenance for your child. Sydney looks up at you knowingly, tongue flicking the swollen bud.

Then, for the first time since finding out you were pregnant, Sydney places a hand over your belly, and it finally hits you. The stirring of life inside of you, something precious and uniquely yours. Something you're not sure you want to give up. You can see it so clearly; his hand on your stomach as it swells with each month that passes. His hand in yours as you usher this new life into the world. Each of your hands holding your child's as you walk together down the street, the way you saw other families do when you were younger.

You're not dumb. You know it's not that simple, that that's not all there is to it. There's so much to consider. You haven't even told Bailey yet.

But you want it. Oh, do you want it.

None of that matters once Sydney dips his head between your legs and licks into you diligently. You finish as quietly as you can on his tongue while he ruts into his mattress, your hands gripping tightly at his hair the way you know he likes.

Once he sits back on his heels and wipes your slick from his mouth, he groans in frustration. You ask him what's wrong.

"I wasn't gonna fuck you tonight," he groans again, pawing at his dick as it chubs up in his pants.

You arch an eyebrow at him in disbelief.

"I mean it!" he grins, and you're grinning now, too. "I really wasn't. I was just gonna hold you all romantically."

A laugh bursts from you, the kind made worse knowing you had to be quiet so Sirris didn't overhear. Sydney laughs too, boyishly and dumbly, and collapses into you. He traps you in his arms and kisses you more. Soft, peppering kisses you can't wait to wake up to in the morning.

Despite what he says, he fucks you twice, and you fall asleep slotted together like spoons, his big, warm hand protecting your belly.

#dol #degrees of lewdity #dol sydney #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #dol scenarios #dol blurbs #writing #mine

[jermer10]

Hello👋 i dont know if you can but, can you do a drabble of yandere Sniper [tf2] stalking and kidnapping the reader[gender neutral]? And that he keeps them locked up in his camper van?

And uhhh, if you can the reader loves him right back?👉👈

If you cant do the stockholm syndrome thing, i get it. But at least do yandere Sniper please.

TF2 yandere sniper drabbles

suggestive, gn reader | this prompt was so fun!! tysm for the ask :)

tw: stalking, kidnapping, obsession, depictions of wounds and blood, drugging, abusive relationship, reader falling in love with yandere

drabbles under the cut :P

- you were aware of his existence a long time before meeting him, and whilst you had dealt with creeps and weirdos before, this guy was....different... - waking up during the night and feeling a presence in the room, yet finding no one once the lights were turned on; catching a glimpse of someone from the corner of your eye, and turning around to see nothing - for the longest time you had felt insane! "you're just paranoid!" you'd hear from friends and family - and then you had your first encounter with him at your local cafe whilst in the lineup ordering your coffee - okay, well, you weren't certain that it was him, but the way his bluish-grey eyes bore into yours with such an obsessive, aching, needy want caused you to put two and two together - and much to your dismay, he had realized that you knew - you brushed past him, hoping he wouldn't follow you, hoping that you could make it home in time to pack a bag or two so you could stay with a friend for the night - but you only made it half way down the street before being pulled into an alleyway and feeling the sharp jab of a needle in your shoulder

- you must have fought for several minutes before finally passing out, because upon waking there were bruises and scuff marks littering your skin - the second thing you noticed once you gained consciousness was the leg of camper van pull-out table you were tied to - if you had the strength, you would have kicked the table upwards and slid your ducktaped wrists off of the leg, yet your drowsiness and the numbness of your legs told you that trying to escape would be futile - for a second you considered screaming out - someone, anyone must be able to hear you, you couldn’t have gone too far out of town - you hear the stifled laugh of a man from the other side of the van - you turned sharply to look at the man, when an overbearing wave of nausea and dizziness rushed over you. “fuck!” you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut - the man chuckled, and from what courage you could muster, you glanced up at him. he was….handsome? - ‘fucking gross y/n! don’t think that about this guy! he KIDNAPPED YOU!’ the reality of the situation had finally set in - “who are you?! where am i?! please, please just let me go and I wont tell anyone about this! I’ll give you whatever you want! please don’t kill me!” you had started to sob - through the blurry tears you saw him get up and walk closer to you, his brown boots clacking against the floor rung in your head like gun shots - “shut up. I took ya because you’re the thing I want. I’ve been followin’ you for a while and I know you know about it. I got tired of waitin’, so I made myself known, that’s all.” his face was serious, his voice condescending, as if it were obvious - you felt hopeless, pathetic, and manic. you started to scream, cry, thrash around pathetically whilst he stood over you. he lit a cigarette and blew some smoke down at you - “we are a looooong way away from any people darl’, so it would be easier for both of us if you played nice” the man spat, and walked towards the exit of the camper van, grabbing a sniper rifle out of a locked compartment in the wall - “if you’re not here when i get back, i will kill you, y/n.” and with that, he left.

- months had gone by, and eventually you had grown placid, sitting under that table on your makeshift bed day in, day out while the man you had eventually grown to know as Mundy monitored you, fed you, bathed you, and clothed you - you had gained his trust, therefore he decided it would be best to remove your constraints - while he was at work you would rummage through his belongings to find out more about him; what hobbies he had, where he was from, his likes and dislikes - you found a photo of his parents and casually asked him about them one day. he was taken aback by your curiosity, yet he told you stories about his childhood and you shared some of your own - you couldn’t even hate him anymore, you had actually grown fond of the man in your time spent with him, but there was no fucking way he could know that. you still wanted to escape from this sicko and return to your old life - but what even was your old life? your 9 to 5 job, coming home to an empty house every day, the constant feeling of being watched with no one to believe you - suddenly your situation seemed a lot better than what you were previously stuck with - that night you had awoken, startled by a wounded and bloody Mundy stumbling through the camper van doors. “holy shit, are you okay?” you hated how it came out so earnestly - luckily for you, the concern had seemingly gone unnoticed as he had sat himself on the floor next to you, peering into your eyes for some kind of permission with a guilt and bashfulness you hadn’t seen from him thus far - you didn’t know what to do or say, so you nodded slightly, and on cue he pressed himself into your side, burying his face in the crook of your neck - he smelt like cigarettes, dirt, and gore - you didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell, but you knew he had a hard day at work. no matter what his job was, you knew all too well the feeling of coming home after a shitty shift and sobbing into your pillows. you often wonder if Mundy ever saw that side of you, sides you hadn’t shown anyone - you held each other in this awkward side hug for what felt like both hours and seconds, you honestly didn’t want to let go, but he was still bleeding out and you had been dirtied - “wanna shower?” you asked chastely. it felt uncomfortable asking your captor for something so….sweet? he glanced at you, attempting to hide the shock in his face - “yeah, okay.” he mumbled, slowly letting go of your warmth and standing up shakily, you followed in suit and head into the cramped bathroom

- by this point you had already been naked around Mundy, he refused to let you shower by yourself and most days you had been so exhausted you had looked forward to him washing you - but you had never caught a glimpse of what was under his work uniform or the red plaid pyjama slacks and white t-shirt he wore around the van, and a small part of you was nervous, but a huge part of you anticipated the reveal - you stripped yourself and climbed into the tub, chin resting on your knees, hugging your legs, and staring up at the tall, lanky man - a red tinge glossed his dirty face, clearly this was a vulnerable spot for him, and you couldn’t help but respond with your own red cheeks in turn - “….are you jumping in or what…?” you couldn’t look at him, the only sound louder than the thumping of your heart in your chest was the water spilling from the tap filling the tub - “ah- yeah just uh, gimme a second,” he murmured, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his top - his chest and back were scarred, some old, some new. you felt a pang of sadness. the irony of this situation was not lost on you, feeling more remorseful over hating this man than he does for kidnapping you, but you couldn’t help it. he was so raw, so genuine - he had stripped bare, and climbed into the tub facing away from you, handing you a bar of soap, you absentmindedly washed his back, it felt all too natural to you, maybe it was the steam of the shower, maybe it was the exhaustion that came from sleeping on the cold, hard floor of the camper every night with nothing but a blanket and pillow to keep you comfortable, but something about being here now, with Mundy, felt so right - “I think I’m in love with you,” you spoke softly, so softly you were sure he couldn't even hear the whisper, and before you could react, Mundy turned and pulled you into a rough kiss. you melted into it, running your soapy hands through his auburn hair. eyebrows furrowed and face burning, he pulled away - “wanna sleep in my bed tonight?"

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 imagines #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #sniper x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #yandere tf2 #yandere tf2 sniper #yandere sniper x reader #yandere tf2 sniper x reader #yandere tf2 imagines #yandere tf2 x reader #ask #jermer10